I haven't been posting much lately. Been feeling moody blue these days. A lot of crying in the car and fighting monsters in the dark. I have everything I want, but I'm still so far off from where I want to be. From what I think this world ought to be. Most of the time, I find comfort in melancholy. Lately though, I just feel drained by it. Where's the mother ship when I need her? No wonder why I spend so much of my time daydreaming.
Do ever feel you just weren't meant for this place in its current iteration? I look like everyone else, but internally, I just feel so different. I've got a weak stomach for suffering and I always have. But with the current state of things, I don't see it getting any better. And so the sadness sweeps in. It's been said that the most perceptive people are often the saddest because they are too shrewd to know blind, unfettered joy. They sense that too much of anything good is a trick to keep us all distracted. They know better than to take every offering. So if that's how I am, on some level, I should feel relieved, shouldn't I? After all, my ability to lean into sadness so readily often makes me feel like I've escaped from some dystopian, (read: inauthentic and manufactured) alternate reality. Like we're in a horrific Pleasantville situation. Like I haven't assimilated yet. Like I'm not part of the machine. Like everything important is still in working order. Soul. Body. Heart. Check. Check. Check.
So for now, I'll drink my caramel-flavoured coffee, immerse myself in the slow-moving, analog parts of life, and guiltlessly people-watch as humans desperately try to connect with each other in small-town cafes.
I promise I'll be back at it soon with more regular content. Right now, I'm thinking about new windows and improved cul-de-sac views, and somehow distracting myself via thirsty ovums and 12th birthday mallrats and ruining tweenage dreams with my leftist activism and keeping the wonder alive assisting choppy kindergarten readers and newbie magicians performing not so secret magic tricks...
You know...the stuff real life is made of.
Love to ya,
-M
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