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What Separates Hours

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Days seem to drift on seamlessly when you are by yourself. more common than not, you find yourself simply viewing life rather than living it. The same old dragging along that you  have come to know. Perhaps too well. When you are all but a ghost, days seem to slip seamlessly into each other like a record needle effortlessly moving onto the new song, the new groove in the thin vinyl disc. There used to be days. Oh yesterday I went here... Today I did this... . Now it just feels like one continuous blur, one never ending day of indifference. We are but pawns in the game of life. Spin the wheel, get some debt, move four spaces, lose a job. I always knew that game was quite a drag. Lonely hours turn into lonelier days as the definite divide between 24 hours becomes far too thin to perceive. Sometimes you find the root of importance in your life, other times you spend that life looking for it. Is it too much to just live? to just feel. Good or bad, can you imagine. That's what's hard about the endless grind, it desensitises you. Is that what they mean when they say it's a cold world? Its getting colder. It's exactly like when you are out in the winter and even for a minute, just one minute, you don't feel the snow. You can't tell it's cold. Your body either ignores, or simply doesn't care that it's freezing. It would take too much, cost too much, more than I have, to rid the world of this boredom. Perhaps someday, a day where unpredictability runs wild through the streets, and people together find a way to live. To really live. For now sadly, we keep playing that vinyl over and over again, hoping that one fateful scratch will throw us off track. The spinning carousel of the same old horses, the same old melody repeating itself day in and day out. Hit rewind, I dare you. The world is far more comfortable stuck in the familiar. That is perhaps why the days run together. The hours seem to be separated by more hours, and lives seem to go on forever.

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