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'. |