I rarely edit my free-writing. And everything I write is free-writing. Just thoughts on modern day life and pondering meanings.
Is it the impending fear of death that makes us slow down and become fearful of bolder gestures? Of taking chances? To live a life of simplicity, to settle into our inconvenient sense of comfort. Surrounded by our things which give us worth. I've worked long enough, hard enough, sold enough of my soul and of my youth, but I have the goods to prove it. Is it giving up? Is it easier to just let the tide roll over us? To succumb, to give in? Growing tired of fighting with societies expectations we just throw our hands in the air and exclaim, "I'm tired. I'm tired." Shielded eyes our hearts grow weary. To be a martyr for a cause lost centuries ago. A Joan of Arc sitting in a McDonald's, writing off tax exemptions and slipping of her heels. Gandhi in a 7-11. Oh thank heaven. How much does it cost to live for something grander? How much does it cost to sell out, to live a life not worth remembering? What is the price to pay when no one will remember your name? Buzzing bees we aimlessly fly, forever sucking the nectar-less flowers. Forever chasing the sweetness that left us long ago.