Don’t take it personally babe.

Don’t take it personally babe. I just want to feel alive. Sad isn’t it? Twenty-five years old and I’ve never really felt anything. Nothing other than a desire to be at rest and at peace. Oh, there’ve been glimpses for sure. Brief moments where some small amount of adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream, telling me that perhaps I wasn’t just put on this planet to make money and die. Pop out a few kids along the way so they can do the same thing. Just a big wheel of life without living, doing without leaving a mark, thinking without being and slowly shuffling towards a six-foot hole in the ground.

Most people get over that at some point. That point, for me, hasn’t come yet and likely never will. Some people were put on this planet to just enter and exit, to sit in the waiting room and twiddle their thumbs. I get restless and I want to walk out the door. You’re okay with sitting in the chair and staring at a magazine. This is, quite simply, who we are. I’m okay with that. I just hope you can be okay with me.

So if you’ll excuse me, the concert starts at nine and it’s almost seven. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us and they’re all waiting. Lock the door. Don’t wait up. I’ll be home late. I’m going to go and try to feel alive for a few hours. Don’t forget that I love you and that you love me.

Bye.

~ by thethingswethink on May 15, 2007.