Degrees of Desire

At the end of the day things turn out as they’re meant to. It’s a case of natural selection. The mud sinks back to the bottom of the pond. All things return to dust in the end and sometimes in the meantime the things we don’t want to happen do anyway. 

If we could live with that and be a bit more patient then maybe there wouldn’t be so much of a mess. It is a mess. You must be a able to see that as well as I can. It’s all so temporary and plastic and cheap and we put up with it so that we can keep up. Fomophobia might actually make it into the dictionary this year. I mean ffs. 

It’s the way it is and we have to be brave or afflicted to resist it. I resist as much as I can and I’m not brave, simple unable to keep up. I’m too busy counting the patterns on a new carpet or listing the jobs I won’t do today. 

I notice, though. I see them pass me by, these plastic people who run the world and influence the rules imposed on me. These phony figures of authority that slide past me as I stand still and feel the current running through my fingers. As I wait to be called up to my rightful place but lack the desire to get there on my own.  

Degrees of Desire. That’s all it comes down to in the short termage of it all. It is mightily unsatisfactory. But it will all work out in the end when there’s no one there to see it.

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