free write- vapidity

I feel vapid. It’s the best way to describe it, hollow, without. I like the word too. It sounds important and heavy and like it has something to do with the heart, the physical, not the metaphysical one. Though both hearts would be appropriate right now. It’s how I feel- a bit spent, a bit left on the side of the road, a bit washed out. Vapid, vapidity, vapidness, vapidly. I’d like to describe this day as vapidly moving along, maybe even this life. Oh, that doesn’t sound good and it’s not what I mean. I feel like I’ve lost my center a little. And I think it’s because I’m not lost in a book. In the six months since my reading stint started I’ve discovered my harbor, my cloud in the heavens, and it’s books. That sounds so bookwormish, so boring, but it’s true. Books have given me more grounding in these last few months than anything else. Oh, and I’m not dissing anyone, but when I feel lost like this, when the vapidity is all around I know it’s because I am not in the middle of a story, someone else’s. What does that mean, vapidity comes when someone else’s story is not upon me? That doesn’t sound good. That sounds like I’m escaping and it’s not unlike what my friends say. They tell me I’m hiding in my books. I change the subject, but I know they are more right than I am and it’s why we are friends, for the mirrors, for the truths we shine upon each other. They are my opposite of vapid, they are my antonym.