Diary of an American

I am wasting time. Flat out sick the last week contemplating my life for now I’m forced to. There is nothing to distract me from it now. I have friends who are not friends but opportunists, and there will never be anything else with them except for what we can mutually take from one another. Time to end the affairs and dalliances that pretend to be something more profound than they are.

So easy to live in a rut. Never have to change, just adapt till the discomforts are normalized and numbed. So many dead ends. Job, this thing with E., and I at a “certain age,” where women begin to become invisible to society in favor of the young up and coming. I am not where I should be financially. I’m dissatisfied with people when I look out into the world and we’ve seemed to embrace becoming more like animals than human beings. When did so many decide it was preferable to hurt others in order to progress or that a polite society was useless–better to be crabs in a bucket than to use anything good about us to accomplish betterment of the whole of society. No, we must all be individuals and get what is “ours,” and if others don’t like what we say (which is usually rude), then too bad. Fuck their feelings, right?

I was not made for this bleak cynicism. I loathe the attitude behind it with all my being. Selfishness as some kind of virtue. Selfishness denotes a lack of virtue and I find myself chasing the dark searching for where honor, compassion, and all those other beautifully flawed traits that make us better than we are are now hiding.

I’ve been hiding in the ephemera of my life and it is time to stop giving up and allowing whatever to go by.