i wandered off from my mom once at a alphabeta supermarket. that exact moment i realized i was BY MYSELF LOST. that exact fear is almost analogous to the loneliness that “grownfolks” feel when they realize just how alone they truly are and how they can only vaguely grasp nevermind reach for what they can’t find missing in their lives.
so in our moments of weakness (out of a misguided lust for life or gasping to feel alive again if only for that brevity in time) we reach for false fillers – a harsh cut of white powder against a distorted reflection; a primal moan of pleasure with an uncaring companion; a crowded lounge of faceless strangers and colorful cocktails. but after the fine snow rushes towards our sinus; after the pleasure and heated whispers melt into an awkward contourtion of limbs; after the last call -
the reality hits hard enough to knock out your empty breaths – once again you’re by yourself and its all empty.
my biggest fear (dont get me wrong – depending on my mood, i am invariably in love/lust/like with life and my faith in humanity is disturbingly unshakeable) is perhaps this:
there should be more to life than this, there has to be “it” (AKA your religion, family or passion that colors your world and motivates you to live your life right accordingly) – but the moment you pause in your panic and hopeful search of “it” the ironic punchline breaks: there just might be nothing else -
this is it and the joke was on you.