BB Grey–musings

“The lake still reflects and doubles anything at the water’s edge, making me feel I was there, and the double could shoulder and take all that is wrong with me and carry it away.”

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The Lake, the Screen, the Void

It’s another day. The lake sits there, smug in its stillness, reflecting everything at the water’s edge like some cheap carnival mirror. It doubles the trees, the rocks, the sky—even me, if I dared to step close enough. For a moment, I imagine the reflection could shoulder my burdens, take all that’s wrong with me and carry it away. But no, it’s just light and water playing tricks, and I’m still here, cowardly, hunched behind these keys, masked by a screen that glows like a false god.

My phone sits by my side, a little black rectangle of modern despair. It bleeps—spam, of course. Some algorithm thinks I need a discount on shoes or a newsletter about crypto. I glance at it instinctively, like a dog hearing a whistle, then force my eyes back to the white void in front of me. The screen is blank, but it feels heavier than the lake, heavier than the sky.

I spent time with the Lord this morning. Or at least I tried to. I read a verse, muttered a prayer, but my mind kept drifting to the things I haven’t done, the things I’ve done wrong, the things I’ll probably keep doing wrong. I got anxious, the kind of anxiety that feels like a hand tightening around your throat, so I cut my walk short. Called it good. Good enough. Isn’t that what we all say? Good enough.

The shower was next. Hot water, steam, the illusion of cleansing. I stood there, letting the water beat down on me, wondering if it could wash away more than dirt. Probably not. I dried off, put away clothes, took out the trash. Domestic rituals, little acts of order in a life that feels anything but.

I made my bed. A small victory, they say. A made bed is a sign of discipline, of control. But what does it matter? I’ll just lie in it again tonight, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I’m here, why any of us are here. The bed is a trap, a place where dreams and dread collide. I make it neat, tidy, as if that could somehow contain the chaos inside me.

The lake is still out there, doubling the world, mocking me with its perfection. The phone is still bleeping, spamming, demanding attention. The screen is still white, waiting for words I’m not sure I have. And I’m still here, cowardly, masked, lying to myself that today will be different.

But it’s another day. Just another day.

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