…and I’m not sure what. But it’s off. I’m sitting here trying to work and I just don’t know. I don’t know. Everything is dim and odd… and… broken…
Is it a mid-life crisis?
What is it?
I miss my youth.
I miss the people that used to be mine.
Now, everyone, even the people “closest” to me, are distant, even when we are in the same room. Different problems, different careers, different lives. I can’t understand them and they can’t understand me and all of us are lonely.
And of course they are not in the same room.
Isolation is so complete in modernity… I think the last time I really didn’t feel alone, deep down at the core of things, was sometime before I entered my twenties. Maybe it goes farther back even than that, to high school, or even grammar school.
Am I trying to crawl back into the womb?
But then, is it so strange that people should want to be known, to be understood, to be able to share at least some small part of their life aside from drinking, eating, and pissing, with people that they can count on to be around and have things in common with them?
I’m not sure there’s anyone on earth that can say ten accurate things in a row about me right now. The essence of me exists in a vacuum, without external knowledge—reflecting no light, because there is no light to reflect. No one exists who is not known and understood.
Modernity is broken. Or rather, modernity is a fracture.