I want a simple existence; one that is not complicated by legalities and draining financial commitments. One that is not hard to fill with laughter.
I think I’m special. I always have. I guess my parents did a good job of filling my head with rhetoric they hoped I would someday believe, so that I could, in turn, be special.
I know the world suffers. I know the political system is scarred and decrepit. People ache, and die. Too much of this planet is warped by pain and injustice. I know I am not immune to that kind of environment. Yet, I was born into a stable place, with food, heat, and family, so my true understanding is swayed. Still, I manage to find myself lost in despair, regardless, from time to time.
I sit here trying to convey my feelings of loneliness and thirst into a word doc while the turning pages of a book across the room make us want to stand up and shout “listen to me”. Yet open ears before me, I find myself with nothing to say. The keyboard edits my inappropriate rage, while my wicked tongue stings without tonic, and silence ensue.
I will lose myself, only to find myself, though the discovery may be as muddy as the colors I mix. I want a simple existence, one that is not hard to fill with laughter.