Getting Older, Getting Faker

I've realized that recently, even though I've been going through a ton of change, I've been less prone to think too deeply about things.

Maybe I've worked things out in my head so I don't ask the questions, but I know that's not really true. Maybe I've learned to accept certain things as impossible to determine so I leave them alone; that's not true either. The better answer is probably that I just don't care anymore. I'm just the fat kid with a bowl of ice cream, eating it because it tastes good, unconcerned about the consequences in the future.

I can't lie, I'm doing ok, maybe even good from time to time, but I have grown older and as much as I don't miss the pain of youth, I'm starting to miss the fire. I used to think in terms of best and worst, if not for practical purposes, at least as a stone on which to build, but now everything is in practical terms; no real innovation. Or to use an analogy, I know I'll never be a marathon runner so now I just shuffle my feet.

As much as this feels better, it feels colder. Like the whole world has taught me to be happy and healthy but has forgotten that there's a man beneath this skin. A man who wants to experience love and compassion stronger than most will ever see. I tasted it once and it's driven me mad ever since. I know I'm supposed to move past this, to accept the plastic relationships and mechanical sex as perfection, but I know I'll regret it forever if I do.

All the thanks in the world to Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak for making me remember what it is to long for something. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5B4KS7GP9A