14/100 A Quick Fix
More. I want more. Grab the nearest thing. Use it. Still not the right one.
A snack, maybe, to curve the hunger.
Something to add on the to-do-list for the day.
Shifting between two coasts. Left and right, East then West.
Pick up a book, a hobby, meet a new friend.
It’s not here. We are just not that into it. Not so drawn. So we search, for something to be draw us.
Something bothers us here. So we fly to another place. Every time something bothers us, we shift locations, then find new flaws. Maybe it’s not the place, maybe it’s us.
After a while, we get tired. We lose track of days and forget to search, or the fact that we were searching. We grab the first chair we see, then just sit there.
There’s a laugh that haunts me. A look in the eyes. When people have drinks in their hand, a lover in their arms, and they are laughing. Almost a laugh of pain. It’s forced out. It’s a madness. The eyes do not have a soul. They have a glaze of discontent. The conversation is shallow.
Then there’s someone who does everything the right way. But the system kicks them around until the legs break. The water is filled with blood and soil. The gold cloth that it was once has become indistinguishable from a dirty sack. People see them as a worthless nobody, from the cloth. They do not try to understand how the cloth became that way.
Then, if in a rare case, someone makes it, people rush to the light and try to bring them down. If they can’t have it, nobody can.
Living comes with a heavy cost of death. We must work so hard not to be lost or mundane, that we must give everything up in order to achieve what we search for. It must be worth dying for, is what we believe. It has to be.