Summertime, and the living's easy in anticlimatic

I feel very lonesome without the company of people that only exist in my imagination.

I like people, as a concept. I like myself in similar regard. But in practice? I feel like anytime I get the chance to interact, my mouth opens and only a controlled inauthentic grease spills forth whose purpose is to simply slide the person in front of me out of my way. What is that? Why don’t I take more time to regard people, to ask them questions, to open up some?

I don’t trust them. Not family, not stranger. Or perhaps, and more likely, I don’t trust myself to be normal. What unearned arrogance I used to have regarding any knowledge or wisdom on how the world, or people worked- how the future would play out.

There are some people I trust and feel comfortable opening up to, but they are extremely few and far between, mostly Gen-X, and I just never encounter people in the wild anymore.

They never tell you that somewhere in your 30s you drift into outer space. The tracks that had carried you, as a group, with most of your peers of a similar age, gives way. The paths diverge. Children happen. One by one a new family tree is planted somewhere, fenced off from the rest of the group. Until it’s the whole group, growing their own new worlds now rather than share the old.