Meh

Conversation just isn't the same anymore. Quick wits and forked tongues fall upon the phrase, "what?" or "could you say that again?" The silence is a welcoming place, but only because it couldn't greet you if it wanted to. It's a place where men are driven mad, and others find complete harmony. I've found both. The world is slightly altered. Skewed. Misshapen with a boundary that I'm afraid to pass. The life before life, it's a time where we cruise and drift our way through time; it's a delicate flower anxious to be plucked, or even fertilized. We sway, back and forth, here or there. No real direction, just wherever the wind takes us, whichever place the sun decides to reside; that's where we stay. For me though, it seems my fragrance to lure the elusive bee isn't working correctly. I sway in a wind of my own following no real guide, the sun shines on me, but feel too much of a longing for something more. As if the whole business of growing firm or the eventual fertilization is all a sham to begin with, there must be something more in the workings here. Or I could possibly be the sunflower, secretly a weed, looking sharp but have my own plans.
My brain has become accustomed to being generally silent, but this doesn't help the case of me trying to be more outgoing. It's not near as horrific as other ailments that people have, missing arms, legs, etc, but it feels almost as bad. I feel maimed with no one to blame. No reason behind it all. Just a shrug, a long sigh, and an exasperated "well, fuck." Even with the lights off, I shine, but grow dimmer in a world that feels as if I'm the only one willing to shine. All the rest go on, in their own directions, doing whatever it is little fireflies do; I sit and contemplate. The shades are being pulled over me, and there's nothing I can do about it but strive for more and not accept it.
I've become detached, honestly. Life is in itself a giant game to some, but doing your best and being yourself can get you only so far, it seems. Time is no man's ally, only death's, and neither of which are forgiving. When did it become so easy to lose ourselves in world that used to have so much promise and purpose?
Living, that's easy, but living with ourselves and others, that's a different story. For those who don't know, I've been deaf in my left ear since about August. Well, it's left me with a lot of thinking, and more silence than I can bare. I'm pissed off. Angry. Confused. Tired. Lost. Frustrated. Anxious. And just all around more anti-social than I'd care to be.


I just want it all to be a dream.

A
Bad
Fucking
Dream.