Nap Time

I sit here in a moment which my life feels out of my reach. In which I look at the conundrum of daily existence and with an final exasperated breath I say not just why, but how? How do we go on living? If we cannot connect to a happier place inside ourselves and inside the world then what is the point? There is no hope for someone who does not have the emotional, or psychological will to participate in life as it is designed; in yet craves every ounce of its existence. Everything to want costs money. Everything in life costs money. There is a price to pay for everything. My 'head-space' as it were is just an excuse for my procrastination from the artistic endeavours I don't want to know I'm going to fail at. Everyone fails. Everyone who tries anything fails, because none of us ever really figure this out. We just keep plodding along day, after month, after year, after generation, after epoch. Down, down, down.

I am a morcel in a menial spectrum.

I remember feeling good. Sometimes. I also remember a lot of feeling like this. So tired of feeling like this but I honestly don't know how to stop. Though I am not without my faults, two of which being fear and a fragile ego, but I am not stupid or insincere. I am trying to have fun. I'm trying to do this right – by me. I'm trying to have a good and happy life. I'm trying to access the fundamental piece of my soul that makes me burn and let it go. You want to sing? Sing baby! You want to dance? Dance baby! Learn, grow discover, create. . . . burn, burn, BURN!!!! But only after the dishes are done. And only after work, and before yoga, and after the kids are asleep and you've paid the bills and saved for retirement and made a nest egg and saved for a rainy day and put a down payment on a house and bought a nicer car and right after the promotion that they promised next year. Yes. In between all that very important business and before you are too old don't forget to give yourself some time to do wants important to you. Only without merit, or resources or direction. Only with out love, true love and guidance and support. Only without anyone having a clue, how fucked up you really feel. How lonely. How lost. How weak and scared and alone you really are. Staring at the inside of your squishy mushy brain and all its little whims and how you are the biggest victim of your own stubbornness. You are the biggest victim of your addictions and evasive personality. And how hard you fight, everyday to give yourself the opportunities to be happy and explore the avenues of life you wish to suck up. But how even with everything perfect and every moment of everyday available to you, how the time just slips by like ceaseless waves. Untouchable symbols lapping up an invisible shore.

And how you truly feel like you have nothing to live for, if you are going to be as useless as you feel right now. Useless to meet people head on and with honesty. Useless to say sorry. Useless to allow yourself to let someone down. Useless to cry. Useless to give. Useless to try. Hopeless and so, incredibly, hopeful. It burns a mustard seed hole in the pit of your lungs like little a little firing squad. Shwing Shwing Shwing. Past the body and right straight down.

And there is lies. And so do I.