I’ve met many great writers on tumblr. Maybe they’ll empathize with this.
I feel sad when I see other people. Not that I notice it usually, and not that it’s ever been a face-value, surface plain idea until right this moment. But it’s there, nice and deep seated like something right between your eyes not even your peripherals can pick up. So the question becomes why, if we claim to pursue facts of matters.
I’ve always been a team player. I need to feel cause, my system requires I look for purpose. I think I see others and feel above everything else, a sense of whole ambiguity. I’d love to be part of the human team, but we’re aimless fractals. I’m never satisfied with daily responsibilities, I’m never stimulated by weekly plans. I assume others are - and that’s how they’re able to go about how they do. I’m bright enough to maintain those same levels of social norms, of course, as are we all for the very most part — but nobody can tell me why.
It’s a big death of passions, to go outside today. I don’t believe that everyone are bereft of sensing our collective unguided bearings, I just don’t see their struggles like mine. I know we rarely see another’s struggles like ours - and the irony is that they’re probably all symbiotic in nature. A team needs a game.
Posted on Friday, 27 April
Tagged as: prose living room thought symbiosis camelights