slowly being boiled alive
Each day the heat ratchets up
Each day one more responsibility
Thought I was at the top of my game
Turns out I was just a frog down a well
Living on the wheel
Paycheck to paycheck
One bad day away from an ending
Lost in the weeds
Burned out or burning
Doesn’t matter when you have no choices
Each day just a step closer to ending
Looking forward to that eternal relief
It strikes me. How little we actually know each other. What our likes are. How we feel about subtle things. What makes us laugh. What we find amusing. What smells bring memories. What tastes wake passions. Who we are. Beyond the social surface level.
I want to know all of it. Because I’m a knowledge junky. I crave information, context, feelings, hopes, nightmares. I want to see. To know.
But I resign myself to quarter truths and half knowing. Because that level of intimacy is daunting. The conversations we have in our minds. Things we want to say but don’t. Letting it pass by. Each moment lost.
Deep truths wake deep truths shared in others. I’ve done it. Seen it. Less with men than women. There is a cultural divide there which transcends generational shifts. As more people show public face due to a life being lived in the exposure of the internet, their deeper selves are buried deeper. Shared with a bare few. Isolating us further.
Where we’ll land, as to stable norms, is still being established. But it seems we establish more surface relationships. More treacherous parasocial relationships. With few bedrock ties. Leaving us more socially and emotionally vulnerable. And not the good kind of vulnerable.
It’s interesting at a remove. But living within such structures while desiring deep connections, is a recipe for pain. That dull ache of without.
Squeezed out, lifeless
Hang on by the barest thread
Something better soon?
Sleep overtakes me
Last moment before dreams come
Extinguish the flame
Fantasies. We all have them. Some are pleasant and diverting. Some sexual and arousing. Some dark and deadly. But some are dangerous.
The ones I fimd most dangerous are the ones that seem tangible. The ones that could be. Often, these are the fantasies which do the most damage.
That dream of better furniture. Better car. Better computer. Better clothes. It all mounts up and we can convince ourselves that going into debt for these things is a good thing. That these things will make our lives better. I’ve been there. I’ve bought the nice thing. Hell, even enjoyed the nice thing. But the debt of it dragged on me. It made and still makes my life harder.
Now. I don’t indulge on the fantasy of the possible. I still have hopes. Still dream of better. But I don’t project myself into that dream. Don’t try to force that future into shape. Hoping that by having I’ll be happy. Mostly. I’m still human. Looking forward, looking back. To a tomorrow a little bit better than today. Trying not to sabotage my future, by leveraging my present, to aquire a few baubles.
No matter how much they call to me.