A tough week behind and a tough week ahead. Isn’t it curious (read shitty) that we relate with some people better when intoxicated and that without the help of blurred edges and smoothed brain waves, there’s just no mood? No mood to continue. And yet I do and can’t tell if it’s because I am bored or angry or curious or still interested in more. But truth is I am in no mood for bullshit. And I am in fact angry – how much more does one need to tolerate for a few dropped words or for a touch that is anyway dirtied with pure want and devoid of sympathy?
Passing the same people on streets, exchanging the same words in the coffee queue, even dropping some completely predictable sentences to comment on beauty, science, and art. And when at last we talk with some depth about something of some importance, it is cut, damaged, disposed of with the most disgusting veil of promises. I am in no mood to face people who take care of their needs wherever they have access to and settle for weaving webs of meaningless words, empty experiences, and passionless but hungry stares. In no mood to be in the vicinity of a reality that pains me so much. For there is still so much to fight for in this world, still so much more to think about and to feel for and with others.
I miss just having one person in my life who thinks differently than me, feels differently than me, behaves differently than me and yet somehow connects and understands. He taught me to do the same for other people and he taught me to be kind and that I am there, that I can simply exist for others too. And now everything else, every other problem, every other fight, and every other feeling just no longer feels the same. I am in no mood, yet I cried after a long long time, one day then the next and now today again. How did you make me go this far?