It’s some time before 9am on Saturday. I woke up with some recollection of a dream I can barely remember because life always starts out that way. Needing my attention immediately for some trivial act or noise I couldn’t help making this early in the morning. It seems like lately every thing I have to do somehow becomes a major issue to everyone else around me, and right now tbh, I wish there weren’t anyone around me.
I have not had the easiest time assimilating myself back into society. I come from a broken social scene, one where we express how we feel about something like I was taught to, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears, or impatient minds that can’t take a second to listen to what I’m saying or even allow me to finish this goddamn sentence in my head.
So I write it all down just in case the cancer that is forming in my brain needs an avenue to escape from. I wish there was a road I could walk down where I felt confident in the direction it’s taking me, but I seem to be stopping every now and then at almost every exit wondering if that’s the way I should go right now.
Not everything in life that works for me now is a sustainable act that I can keep up for a long time. It feels like the new challenge is living in a situation that is bearable, but could use some improvement that I know would work, but I can’t get the words out before I need to be able to pivot and keep going on.
I just wish I knew where the road is taking me. If I’m going to be one year older in one months time I want to be able to look back on the past year and really feel like I have evolved, and made some solid connections, and that the issues I had then were just faded memories now. I guess in some way it is like that, but why does it always seem like when one problem gets resolved, another murder mystery pops up begging for me to solve it.
Is there no one else around who is able to figure things out through deductive reasoning? Am I ever going to find peace of mind and body at the same time, or is this just a pipe dream that someone sold to me back in the day when I used to believe in my dreams?
The truth is, I kind of believe my dreams more than I believe my reality. Maybe that is an adolescent or immature way to live, but this is coming from someone in their forties who looks like they could be in their twenties, but who has enough life experience to convince someone that I’m in my thirties.
BTW, have you met anyone over the age of thirty lately? I have. They are like big kids who refuse to eat their vegetables but who also have mortgages, responsibilities and children, but who still refuse to listen to reason from another human being, unless that reason comes from that rectangle in their living room.
My dreams don’t lie to me, they have no idea what a lie is. My dreams don’t keep things from me, like what they are thinking, or the reason why they chose this course of action. They do, however create a cypher in my head that I spend the next few hours trying to decrypt, but by then the obstacles of the day have taken center stage and I stand there wishing I could just go back to sleep.