Writing

collection of my poetry and short stories

Waves

All my fucks are exhausted today.

Ever sit at the office, bedroom, or park and just stare off into space and think to yourself about all the people you've outgrown? I recently came upon this thought when I started pondering (what I've been doing a fucking lot) on all the people that use to be in my life. Granted a lot of these people I still love and adore from afar but I think I've hit this ceiling of fucks where I can no longer well, give a fuck about their feelings.

And I mean this in the best of ways, really...I do. It's not my lack of love for them that keeps me from caring but my own movement in the world that is keeping me from staying in the same place. I think we've all hit this point in our lives where we are just tired of dealing with the same bullshit and staring at the same shit all the fucking time. I can only look at the Chicago skyline for so long before I get in my feelings about all the places I want to visit, all I people I want to meet, people I could be fucking, and delicious food I could be trying. Home is great, people at home are great, everything is so fucking comfortable and great. But this doesn't make me feel great. And the people who use to make me feel great? Make me feel paralyzed.

But in all reality, it isn't their fault. It's no one fault that life moves in that motion. Life is nothing more than a series of waves. Crashing and cleansing, taking things away and clearing out the clutter to give you another reflection. All in all it sounds beautiful, scary, devastating, and liberating all at once but I'm just kinda drifting on the current. Aware of my new reflection but sad to see the fog of my old self slowly drift back into the open skies. I guess this is what the new life crisis looks like. Like a bunch of hopeful individuals just floating on bodies of water, staring face first into their new reflection.