Lost. But now found.
Found in a catalogue of misconceptions, drunken conspiracies and idiotic fantasies that twist souls and minds beyond animalistic function. No longer hearing the wings of flying birds. They are silenced by playlists of distraction. Theme tunes of colour mask the anxiety of being alive without control. At least playlist can be shuffled. A song skipped. The power of the swipe. Making promises but soon breaking them. Not out of malice, but from distraction. Vague mental wandering syndrome...I obviously made this up due to the lack of medical language. However, I did add syndrome at the end.
Nietzsche posed the idea of anxiety being the result of plentiful choice. Too much choice that it becomes too powerful without knowing. A decision seems impossible. The thought to do, is said to be overwhelming. Caring is a societal characteristic. Everything that is believed, also an inherited societal trait.
A decision cannot be made as the consequence to an individual's cultural acceptance is in jeopardy. When voices proclaim to have no regrets, they are in abundance. It is okay to be wrong. But what is it, to be wrong?
The situation that holds the moment is a sandwich that will never be eaten yet it is designed for reasons unknown. A hippopotamus could defecate upon the buttered bread. It does not hold significance to the result of the sandwich. Consequently, arguments emerge as to who let the hippo out of the zoo. But, why is the hippo in the zoo? The question was never asked as to why the sandwich is being made. The sandwich has always been under construction. The making of the pointless sandwich has become routine.
The virus was, possibly still is, humanities opportunity to make a run from the transparent prison. Society has Stockholm Syndrome. A burnt and embedded desire for their captors which is camouflaged by subtle hints of the possibility of success and a desired remembrance as being something or someone. Travelling so far to then turn away is madness, right? Throw all the jewels into the sea and allow the fish to become civilised and heroic Stockholm Syndrome victims. Maybe that is what happened? Jewels were thrown into the sea and humans retreated backwards, returning to being animals. One day, a salamander became curious as to where the jewels came from. Jewels raining through the celling of water and into the ocean. They crept from the sea, jewels in their mouths as they slugged their way through the mud. Greeted by the air.
The story repeated itself. Evolution.
Can one pose this period as a fragment within the devolution of the human and the evolution of the human? Simple things in life make me think about dying. I like things that make me realise I am going to die. They are not telling lies. When I kiss my partner, I am lost in a moment of beauty and despair. I feel the heat from her face, her breath, her mouth on my mouth. It makes me realise I am dreadfully fragile, consumed by love, propelled by dreams, engulfed by curiosity and humbled by the demise of life.
I recently finished watching the American version of The Office. I thought it was brilliant (I prefer it to the English version). I will leave you with a quote from Andy Bernard. It stopped my thoughts in their tracks.
"I wish there was a way to know you were in the good old days before you actually left them." - Andy Bernard