Lonely Planets, Fragile Bonds

My world has become so small. I have very little from the past in my life. Even long-term clients have vanished into the ashes of yesterday. Relationships. Love affairs. Friendships. All gone.

And what of now? What friendships? What depth? I have my woman, and she’s great. Aren’t we like two lonely planets spinning in a vast, empty universe? I say I want to make money, but I don’t want to work. What weird oddity is that?

My son, so close yet so far. War creating distances that would otherwise likely be less. Is it all just a lucid dream? Is it all just somethingness? Just present. Just existing. What happens when I reach out, when I try to bring close? Or have we all lost closeness? Have they succeeded in separating us all into individuals with weak bonds with each other?

And who is they? Perhaps we’ve done it to ourselves. If I were to cease in the next five minutes, what would it matter? What would it change? The waiters I tipped forget me within three months. The charities I donate to will forget me within a year. Unpaid bills chase me for years after I’m gone. But how is that being remembered, especially when I forgot to pay?

I know nihilism doesn’t work, for there is a creation. I’ve seen what happens to my life when I tried to abide by nihilism. There is a master of the universe. To do good seems to have value, at least on a personal level. For there’s a lot of suffering that comes with leading a bad life, but there seems to be a lot of suffering that comes when you don’t pursue evil. For the evil, it’s consequences, and for the righteous, growth. But isn’t that just justifying what we don’t understand?

A big cup of coffee with whipped cream is not healthy, but do the healthier live longer, happier lives? I think not. So then, what is this tune that we all follow, and then in our 40s, we’re like, yeah, whatever? Is it about waking up? Do I need to wake up? Am I still sleeping?