These feelings
Always these feelings of being let down.
Disappointment in the lack of others efforts against my own.
But I know it’s just selfish self projections anyway.
They don’t even matter.
They are no one
I posit emotion and energy and meaning on them but they are no one.
They are blank canvases and I take what I think I need from them at a particular time.
Then once I let them burn through my many layers of denial and self appointed sacrifice and service to my constructed ideals of ‘them’, I move on.
Never fully forgetting or letting them leave me, mind you....
For they all are with me forevermore
Whether that be they as people
Or more likely, my selective and conditional vision of them.
Alone, together in my dualistic dance between delusional and austere romanticism and cynical nihilism
Will I ever be absolved from my innate desire to exalt the primitive and common man?
Will my heavy desperation for a kindred being with solidarity of mind ever subdue in need?
Or will it simply be me and my foolish heart spooning my pensive predilection for melancholy?
