I am so very tired, but no amount of rest shall ever revitalize me.
Rest requires return.
I am unbelievably bored, but no set activity will enliven me.
I must be free from constraints and expectations
I hate my job and my contemporaries.
They banter endlessly in loops, trapped in preset thoughts, providing arranged answers. They are unaware of their own limitations, and I know that I could never make them understand. I would be whispering into a howling gale of white noise.
The old man who never stops talking slips from mundanities to bigotry without notice.
Such a thing would be beneath his esteem.
Can he see the glaze over my eyes everytime we make contact?
Does he understand the condescension in my smile?
The young one is quickly following suit.
He complains about his position, but he is not a man of action. Can't he see the futility he has made of his existence?
The more they chatter, the more I can feel them stripping away all substance around them. A united front - the young and the old revealing to me my own hollowing core. Will I become what is being asked of me? Will I abandon my pursuits in favour of an easy life? Can I summon the strength to rebel - to flee into the wilderness - the unknown worlds beyond what eyes do see and memories recall? I have been mulling at the crossroads my past existence, and I am frightened - though I am uncertain of where the greater fear lies.
This weight I feel. Is it the weight of my complacency? And will it harry me forth or run me into the ground? If I flee for long enough, and far enough, will it cease to be mine? Will it latch parasitically onto the next passerby who slows at the siren call of doubt?
If I shut my eyes and plug my ears, will the old man and the boy cease? Will the world?
If I am alone in the universe - why am I still chained to my seat?
If I disconnect the cables - if I clear the hard drive - if I remove myself from memory can I create a stable ecology?
Can I ignore the questions and the responsibilities? Can I choose a world free from boundaries? Can I choose choice?
and so on...
Rest requires return.
I am unbelievably bored, but no set activity will enliven me.
I must be free from constraints and expectations
I hate my job and my contemporaries.
They banter endlessly in loops, trapped in preset thoughts, providing arranged answers. They are unaware of their own limitations, and I know that I could never make them understand. I would be whispering into a howling gale of white noise.
The old man who never stops talking slips from mundanities to bigotry without notice.
Such a thing would be beneath his esteem.
Can he see the glaze over my eyes everytime we make contact?
Does he understand the condescension in my smile?
The young one is quickly following suit.
He complains about his position, but he is not a man of action. Can't he see the futility he has made of his existence?
The more they chatter, the more I can feel them stripping away all substance around them. A united front - the young and the old revealing to me my own hollowing core. Will I become what is being asked of me? Will I abandon my pursuits in favour of an easy life? Can I summon the strength to rebel - to flee into the wilderness - the unknown worlds beyond what eyes do see and memories recall? I have been mulling at the crossroads my past existence, and I am frightened - though I am uncertain of where the greater fear lies.
This weight I feel. Is it the weight of my complacency? And will it harry me forth or run me into the ground? If I flee for long enough, and far enough, will it cease to be mine? Will it latch parasitically onto the next passerby who slows at the siren call of doubt?
If I shut my eyes and plug my ears, will the old man and the boy cease? Will the world?
If I am alone in the universe - why am I still chained to my seat?
If I disconnect the cables - if I clear the hard drive - if I remove myself from memory can I create a stable ecology?
Can I ignore the questions and the responsibilities? Can I choose a world free from boundaries? Can I choose choice?
and so on...