Really feeling it, the existential nature of my own reality. So bedraggled. Not enough sleep, not with my need to live a worthwhile life conflicting with my need to hold down a job. This weekend, I finally caught up on my sleep and am well-rested. Unfortunately, I’m rested and awake enough to realize just how fucked I am. The truth is just too…true. Y’know?
So, I’m bored and petulant. Angry because all weekend I’m reminded of just how shitty it is living in a crowded city. Like, every turn I make is met with someone in my way. I know that’s the “bump and grind” of living in a large city, but it feels personal — like the city’s out to get me. Man, what a bullshit thought, right?
The seed of paranoia is the thought that randomness has an actual evil intent. That’s a bad conclusion to make, a wrong line between the wrong dots. That’s where paranoid people get it from. In truth, the halted steps, the road blocks, the red lights, the missed turns, the long lines — those are all due to random movements of random actors in a random playfield. I might be personally inconvenienced, but that’s all it is. I started thinking that because I’m following social protocol and yielding instead of putting myself first, I’m being trampled and held back. That might be partially true, but general public doesn’t know me from Adam, therefore, they cannot possibly have evil intent.
My love for this city is unrequited. I need an escape. A relief valve. A friend. A real friend. That fire inside.