Something changed. I lost my naive idealism and optimistic outlook on the world. For some reason I stopped caring so much about the little things, even though they’re the ones that constitute the most part of our workaday existence.
Sometimes just wish I wasn’t so hopelessly aware of the meaningless of it all. Wish I could turn back the clock sometimes and imbue everything with a halo tinge of sentimentality or ignorance, convince myself that there was some master plan, some great benevolent force that oversees and overrides each and every impulse.
Wish I didn’t have to think for myself. Wish I could just float on down the river like I used to; throw rocks at the suckers on the banking and convince myself that by floating free and out of control I would be taken places without effort or exertion, that ‘destiny’ would lead me where I was supposed to be.
Don’t believe in any of that stuff no more. Don’t believe in souls or purpose or design. Only believe that you get one shot and so you better make the most of it. So why waste time?
Wish life was just one big retro-future orgasm. Wish we were floating through hyperspace holding each other’s hands and wishing that things need never be any different. We’re so small in the scheme of it all and time will continue without us.
