I fear I am slowly losing touch with reality. I am slipping into an electronic hermit shell where instantaneous results have back-washed language, have decomposed meanings. Thinking is a luxury. Feeding on an endless sea of pop culture, advertising, and capitalism, who has time to think? Who has time to hold anothers hand when theres txting to be done? Who has time to kiss ones lips when theres lipstick to apply, piercings to attend to, images to uphold? Who has time for intimacy when theres sex, porn, video games?
I sit here in the bottom of a warm shower for what seems like hours, but passes only in minutes, sweating, hoping, praying for a status update on my facebook account that never came. I spew rotfl and wtf and lol’s out in face to face conversations. My vote goes to the next top model rather than the next president. Michael Phelps dominates any other Olympian who has spent their entire life dedicated to this one race, this one instant, they do not matter, their time a dust bunny, to be sucked up in the vacuum of history. And what of me? I am no Olympian. I am no star. I am nobody important. What do i expect to receive for my life? Even Michael Phelps will be forgotten in a few weeks.
What is real? Why does it matter? Were all dead anyway. Friends, family, enemies. All the same. All equal in the end. Relationships are formed slowly, but can be taken away instantly. Sometimes the pain of the breakup, the rush, is the only thing real to me. Even that is gone as quickly as it came. Who needs drugs when you have an I-phone?
What the hell is happening to me? What the hell is going on in this world? Where can humans feel again?