You know those times when you do the thing and the thing you do is the thing you do? Yeah. It’s one of those days. A day of things thinging and I’m here embracing it all. Or embracing nothing.

I’m not sure as to what I should be doing, but that’s oaky. I can kill some time. I can kill a lot of time, actually. I should be doing more productive things but I’m not, so here I sit. I sit and I get to sit whilst being tired. It’s a wonderful time.

There’s still a sense of time slipping away. I feel as though I am losing it, and I feel as though I should be moving. As though I should be movie. I feel as though I should be looking beyond the concrete and glass and all the structure that I feel is so relentlessly cold and devouring, and I should be in a grand, open emptiness. As though I should be experiencing something out there, and weeping freely, and feeling something. I feel happy, but I feel as though I’m a spectator to my happiness. I don’t feel as though I am genuinely experiencing it.

I feel that, perhaps, I am too detached from what I desire. Too distant, too far removed. I’m yearning for something familiar and away from the city, but I’m a little bit bound at the moment. I can’t go much of anywhere, so I need to tough it out and hold on. I need to wait. Bide my time. Squirrel away my money.

I feel a great sadness for what is happening in the world, but I feel detached from that sadness. I feel as though I should actually be feeling it, but it’s not part of me. It’s kept away by something I don’t know. Or something I’m not familiar with. I’m peeling away from myself, maybe. I don’t know.

IS this all there is to life? Just all this suffering being witnessed from a distance? All this pain spread out and increasing constantly, and feeling powerless to do much of anything about it? Who decided that all the suffering and misery in the world was a fair trade to what we consider a functioning, modern society? Who said that this was the right way to be about things? I want to yell at them. I want to cry and yell at them, because this is just not right. Nor is it just.

Sometimes I feel like I’m someone who just looks out a window and longs for more. Sometimes I feel as though that’s all I can do. I know I can do more, but there’s so much all the time and it’s paralysing. I’m told that there’s opportunity out there, and I’m glad I get to work where I work. I’m glad I get to have the experiences that I have, but I feel lost and adrift, aimlessly floating through a space that’s continually reshaped, preventing me from getting some sort of necessary traction.

I go there and things have changed, so I try to go back to where I was but I can’t as there’s no open route anymore. I look around and it’s all a thick fog consuming everything, and then when it lifts all that is around me is a decayed, graying husk of a landscape. It’s one pockmarked with cold structure that is heavy and creates a terrible weight for the planet to bear.

People amble about to wherever they are heading and it all feels incredibly aimless. It feels as though all this moving toward locations to sit for a while in order to move out of them to get to another location and being paid money for this does not seem like how life should be lived. I have to wonder why we have collectively decided that this is the best course of action for everyone to take in order to live a life. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel human. We keep doing it.

Maybe things will change sooner rather than later. Maybe our hands will be forced when it comes to change. I can only wonder about what lies ahead and where thigs go. All I can do is sit here and hope for the best, or rather that’s what I feel is all I can do.

The biggest issues are that too many people are willing to give up, and not enough people are willing to show how we can do more without having to try and be monumental about it all. At least, that’s what I think the two biggest issues are. There are probably plenty who would disagree with me, and that’s fine. I don’t mind, to be honest. I’ve other things that I want to worry about.

Ultimately though, I want to feel connected to where I am again. I want to feel some sort of realness to this all, and I know it’s real, but it doesn’t feel real. Out there, beyond the city, beyond the suburbs is what feels real to me. Being among the sound of nature and away from the sound of people. Feeling something, experiencing something. Getting things done and doing things among a cleaner air, and seeing massive, overwhelming spaces that make me feel small and appreciative of the world we live in. That is what I want to be around.

I think that it’s sometimes quite difficult to function in a way that people see as healthy. I think it’s difficult to keep on going through days of smearing activity. Things blending into a big swirl of nothingness that makes no sense and has no real rhyme or reason. Of course these things do make sense, but it all feels so lifeless and soulless to me, and I need to feed my soul. I need to feel a sense of attachment that I cannot readily feel right now.

I don’t want to feel like I’m detached from my feelings.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:15:39

This one felt like it took a long time to write, and I think it’s due to how heavy I got whilst writing it. It’s just a rather sad bit of writing.

Written at work.