There is an aspect of my life I’ve allowed to fall away. Thinking that with a purpose served there was no use to learning; to changing in that direction.
However, it was through learning and wielding in those aspects that I felt most alive. Most happy. Leaving. Taking a vacation for my, for the rest of my life, has left me without purpose. Having had purpose for half of my life, it felt like setting a burden down. Like I was allowed to breathe in full measure without labour. And while it was that, one loses focus. Loses the path when life becomes an endless parade of distractions. Hoping to fill the eternal empty of endless days.
Distraction, for a time, was nice. My soul needed it. But that time is past. My soul needs another path. An old path. Its steps chosen again and again. As the wheel breaks and turns. As the thin hopes of a hundred years crack, revealed to be naught but facade.
Only the storm remains. The deep night. And the eternal winter.
Trip the light
Each step a echo of the ones before
Each echo a hollow empty
This expanse without purpose
What use is a bullet already fired
Just a spent cartridge
Left to rot
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.
I’ve been reading a book series by an author going by the pen name Shirtaloon. It’s about a Australian man who gets transported to another world via a summons gone wrong.
I find the series intelligently written though with editing mistakes and word placement which can be attributed to the self publication process.
I tore through the first 3 quite large books which are available for purchase on Amazon or through Kindle Unlimited. At the end of book 3, with the next book slated for a December release. However, the author has a Patreon. And on checking, I found that he had the equivalent of 4 more books available to read. I signed up immediately.
I’ve blazed through those 4 books and am stuck reading each chapter as they come out.
These books have evoked strong feelings in the community of folks who read LitRpg. For 2 reasons. The first is that the protagonist is perceived as almost rabidly atheist. That’s not how I read the motivations. I found him to have some of my same attitudes. In a monotheistic society, any dissension is seen as attack. But any true theist should welcome contention.
Faith which is not examined, which is not tested; is not faith. Instead, it is zealotry and zealotry is not something to aspire to.
Now this protagonist has no innate respect for authority. Any authority. Including God or gods. And that resonates with me. Respect is earned. He’s new to their world. They haven’t built up any goodwill. Why should he bow and scrape.
The second point of contention is that he’s political and he goes on little rants. But that’s not contrived and his friends and later, even himself makes comments about it.
I recommend the series He Who Fights Monsters to anyone who likes cultivation or gamelit. Or anyone who just likes good fantasy. Cause this is definitely it.