Sunday, August 12, 2012

The right to be a cynic

What am I going to say today that is any different than all that I've said every other day? What light might I bring to this human condition that could make anything more bearable? What words will I romance into a soothing dance that might make me feel ok? I don't know the answers to these questions. I doubt I ever will. I will still continue to write, however, and endlessly seek the sollace of clarity.
I'm lonely tonight. Lonely like the kind of solitude that only ensues inside yourself. Here naked before my words, smoke drifting lazily about the room, I ponder isolation. I think of the different ways people interact with one another. I think of the man who loves my body but won't hold my heart. I think of the man who has all of my heart yet can't hold my body. I think of how rare it is for two minds to see eye to eye. Given the complications of pairing it's a wonder to me anyone ever succeeds. I may just be a cynic. I may have the right to be. Tonight I am alone with my words, stumbling through the maze of my emotion. Tonight I am thinking about you.
I'm angry tonight. Angry like the frustration of social injustice. Here naked before my words, moonlight sifting in through the window, I ponder economics. I think of the countless ways we each interact with the world, and the simple things that bring us joy. I think of homes with roofs that don't leak when it rains, cars that reliably work like they're supposed to, I think of shoes, and ice cream and treats for the dog. With all the 'need' that seems to always exceed the gains I wonder how anyone does anything but get by. Given the relentlessness of expense it's a wonder to me anyone ever succeeds. I may be a cynic. I may have the right to be. Tonight I am alone with my thoughts, stumbling through the maze of my fears. Tonight I am thinking about survival.
I am tired tonight. Tired like a thousand bricks brought to bear weight upon this day. Here naked before my words, my bed luring me to dreams, I ponder exhaustion. I think of all the years spent fighting the good fight, the uphill battle to climb out of the well. I think of depression well treated and how I still feel overwhelmed and cry. I think about the pull of sweet unconsiousness, and another day wasted away. Given the insideousness of a brain disease it's a wonder to me anyone ever succeeds. I may be a cynic. I may have the right to be. Tonight I am alone with myself, stumbling through the maze of my questions. Tonight I am thinking about relief.

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