Half Capacity

Half capacity seems pretty appealing right now. I know, based on my own living situation, I'd take that in a heartbeat. The walls seem a little closer together. The sounds of snores, sighs, and nervous cackles tend to echo to the point of pain. The dirty dishes piling up, the hair on the ground, and the dried mud that my bare feet find seem more plentiful. As I try to concentrate on my own emotional stability, I watch as someone else, who was suspect to begin with, starts to turn into something I've seen before. Yet this is narcissistic, almost entitled. The mess is not a decaying mental state, but an announcement of presence. A need for acknowledgment where there is none, nor is it deserved. I do not take the bait and the filth intensifies. Transported, nature's dirt kicks up and somehow finds its way into my shoes. Tiny granite pebbles would feel like shards if not for the drying of my skin and the toughening of my soles. The other soul, the one with the U, is being tested. I think back to times before, not so long ago, when control was an issue. I think about the one thing I felt so deeply; disrespect. I breathe deeply, especially when outdoors. I let the brisk air fill my lungs and I think immediately of places I've been. They are not specific locations, but ideas. Past and future combine. Soft breezes, the sound of water, the smell of the grass and trees. Little kids laughing, women smiling, nods from the men. I imagine living without all of them or with just one, maybe two, maybe all of them, Anything, but this. Maybe half of them. Half capacity seems pretty wonderful.