Is it just me?

March 18, 2012
By Anonymous

I'm watching out the window and all I can see is nothing.
There are cars on the drives, and rubbish bags that still need collecting, but nothing's moving on this street-not even the trees from the wind, because there is none.
The concrete pavement is moist and dark from the rain, and a blanket of grey hovers over the houses; somehow, despite the bright daffodils in every front garden, it seems..... the world seems like it's asleep.
Having written that, it's starting to stretch now-the world, I mean.
I can see a boy strolling down the street and round the bend, and hear cars driving past-when I look up,
I see most of them are black.

All this calm activity and slow awakening is happening outside of me-so very slow, and oblivious.
Do they feel anything beyond the reality they call life?
Don't the people I see-driving cars, walking, emerging from their homes-so relaxed, so very oblivious, don't they want something more than to simply start a new day? To restart the previous events with an identical work shift, or similar conversations in relationships that never go anywhere.
Is it just me? Does no one else notice?

I'm writing this to elucidate something. To illustrate the view I have on life, through my own blue eyes. I'm not trying to confront any object, or explain a rule-I'm asking you a question. An old question.
In my mind I see a world. A world that feigns happiness-that believes joy comes from success, and that success is defined by money.
Is it just me? Does no one else notice?

My thinking is laced with doubt, because my mind can't comprehend what I see.
Would people-would we, live our lives simply to gain anything from money, to distinguished careers, to popularity in a crowd? Would we really do that-Something so factitious and almost trivial when written down on paper?

My perspective will seem something skeptical and maybe even a bit bitter, but that's not how I mean it-like I said, I'm not challenging a view, I'm asking a question, and here it is.
I feel this way, and I doubt this way seven days of the week-I carry it around with me like a briefcase or a messenger bag to work. On the train, through the park, and through the bread isle in ASDA.
I can't dump this bag anywhere, it's part of me, and I hold on to it because I want change.
Not simple change-like switching my green t-shirt to my blue one-but change in why I live life.
I don't want to wake up still feeling the odd desire to look better than everyone else, to say the perfect thing, or expect and want nothing more than a successful career. Because it doesn't feel right,
does it?

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