I don't know what I want to say, or what I need to say, or what I should leave unsaid....
My mind concocts wild fantasies, to lure me into believing that there are easy solutions. When years go by, and nothing's changed, it mocks me with even more insanity.
Oh, but I wallow in misery, fearing being beat down yet again... by being second best, being the alternate? Or just fearing times of trudging through long hours of work and no play?
Not sure if that's what I wanted to write, if that's what's really on my mind. It loves to distract me, you see?
Grasping towards some vision of the American Dream, and finding myself in a nightmare instead - and I ask, "Did **I** bring all this crashing down around me?"
Now, I'm beginning to lose track of what I've already written, whether it be the beginning of this post, or a collection of hack poems, or theories tossed about - trying to make sense of it all...
A vicious cycle - babble about insanity, hoping for compassion - pushed away and ostracized, leading to more isolating insanity... but is it truth to pretend to be normal?
Who does have 2.2 kids, 1.3 cars, and a 2.7 room house? Isn't that what averages tell us the American Dream should be?
Or... who really agrees with me, 100%, on all issues? Certainly no one on the dating websites, according to their statistics. After all, we each have our common, shared experiences, but we have so many more unique dreams, visions... and fears and nightmares, too...
Alas, I probably procrastinate, by writing this. I do not want to clean the bathroom. I do not feel the desperation to get another job (yet). I do not wish to slog away on the computer. I'd like to spend time with friends... but the conversations seem so constrained by time and money and group dynamics and...
I feel I'm just spinning records, now. I guess... scrubbing toilets and the zen in that begins to call...
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