selling your soul

What's your price? 

Just as often as I dream about what a meaningful life would look like, I also dream about what an easy life would look like.  The so-called 'if I had a million dollars' scenario. 

Should I allow myself to attach my value to that of some monetary threshold?

Is a life of indolence and comfort really what I want?  To drown in pleasure and the empty deception that all that matters is me?  I would be lying if I said I was so noble that this held no appeal.

Who wouldn't want the means to be held forever aloft in the admiration of others.  to have those loved ones love you more.  to awake only to look in a mirror and never out a window.  to walk through the warm sands of your island.  to never venture beyond the purposes of self-ordained godhood.

Soon I begin my 2nd quarter century of existence and I still haven't determined what to do.  There is no road and no visible destination.  To wander perhaps forever lost or to stay forever the same.  What would you be paid to stay.  What could move you to go.  I already know and fear the answer to the first, I hope and pray to see the second.

Dose of Dismay

It seems sometimes as though the dark things in your life become a menace too fearful to face, a menacing beast with eyes and teeth that promise a grizzly demise.

The sounds become a deafening unrelenting roar, loud enough to drown out who you are.

A wait

Disclaimer

Better late than never I guess.

All things I write are not endorsed by or reflect the views of any group(s) that I'm affiliated with.  My words are mine and mine alone...I'm sure if some 'friends' or 'groups' or 'blog rings' could somehow disavow me for the things I write without looking like an ass I'm sure they would...so please don't assume I am the face of this or that group and can influence all in it to stage a coup or whatever.  Read my blog and be my friend because of who I am, not because of who I'm with or how you can use me for your own agenda.

Thanks.

Escape Artist

Pardon me if I bleed all over you...morose and meladramatic as always, I know....feel free to find a different venue to fill your moment.

Somedays I wake up an hour before the alarm goes off...wondoring when the day will end. 

...I fight to sleep those remaining minutes away, but always I eventually get up.  I think of everyone else functioning in their lot in life without the melancholy I feel and I wondor how...then I go to work.  And then I work...or atleast I do what others tell me to be work.

I set my mind apart and function for my assigned task and then I go home.  My mind returns asking why.  why.  why.  bills?  mortgage?  obligations?  approval?  and my mouth feels dry as dust, hating the answers it just provided.  Hating my pride, my relationships, myself. 

My day ends with the remaining waking hours becoming a rush to the chasm of illusion.  Books of worlds imagined, televised conversations of a faux life, and games simulating conflicts that I never took part in. 

Even the small respite of friends and family and the joy I feel in sharing in their happines...it also salts my wounds as their lives begin to eclipse my own.

Should I be proud of the material wealth I have or can obtain?  What does it matter?

There's gotta be more.  But the world echoes back 'no'.