Sometimes I get this way. I guess it’s the introvert in me. I don’t know.
Sometimes I just want to fall asleep for a while. Not for decades - no; just a little while. Because, to an extent, I feel like I’m always tired. There is a weariness in my bones; there is a weariness in my psyche, and it is a weariness that cannot be cured by ordinary sleep. Others don’t understand, because I am not unhappy. I simply become bored with the monotony of life. They don’t understand that this has nothing that do with happiness.
Sometimes, I feel tired. I feel like I need a couple of months to recuperate. To just crawl into a hole, watch my TV shows, read, write, sleep. I never get that. I never get the rest that I need, because time is always running, and a day of relaxation is subconsciously constantly being impeded by the inevitability of reality resuming the day after. I feel like I’m always running; I feel like I never have enough time to properly catch my breath. I envy those that can run a marathon for the entirety of their natural lives without stopping. I guess I envy myself, because I do that - and yet…
The answer is obvious. The sanctity of the present does not exist if one is living for tomorrow. But how can one enjoy the present as it should be enjoyed, when they have been raised in a society that dictates otherwise? Mind the people you scorn now, for one day you may be in their power. Mind the marks you get in high school, because one day those marks will get you into college. Mind your college experience, the major you choose, and your brilliance, for that will determine your employment. Mind your employment, because that will one day determine how hard you work in your later years. Mind how hard you work in your later years, because time will run out eventually and you don’t want to be left with nothing but a string of numbers in your checking account. From birth, we are taught to think on tomorrow. So how then, can I expect myself to think otherwise?
In our youths, we are idealistic; we are dreamers. We dread an outlined path and yet still look towards a glistening tomorrow with hope. Inevitably, we are just like the harrowed older generation, for we are the same in our worshipping of the future. The part that saddens me is that no matter how hard we try, that tomorrow is never within grasp. We set one goal and reach it, but that is never enough. We are greedy. We praise those who look towards tomorrow, because looking towards tomorrow means that we have ambition. And ambition is what dreams are built off. Ambition, a cage that we have willingly made ourselves inhabitants of. Time becomes our shackles, and the dreamer within us makes us a prisoner… a prisoner who believes that as each day passes, the bars between him and that glistening tomorrow grow further apart. A prisoner that creates a fictitious landscape outside his small window, a landscape that becomes his yearning and his reason for being. And eventually, that prisoner that fools himself into thinking that the bars do grow further apart, and that it’ll only be a matter of time, a matter of time, until he will be free.