When I was younger I would lay in my bed at night and think. I was content with my thoughts and beyond the scope of my immediate family and friends my preoccupations would end there. Today when I lay and think my mind wanders to the world. To the stranger in another place reading my words and making quick judgments of its merit. To give into itself and be of nothing.
Content is meaningless it seems. A critic giving an arbitrary score only they understand. To much content to care about and creators selling souls for dollars. I would say I’m a hypocrite if even a single person cared. The monetization of creature comforts and dull entertainment to pass the boring hours. Maybe it’s the unhealthy of us in this experiment to lament and proceed unambitious through waking hours. My happiness peaking the moment I lay my head on my comfortable pillow wrapped in my unwashed blanket waiting for my thoughts to pitter patter into incoherence.
Drugs help I suppose. But what healthy existence exists beyond.
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