Languor and Lemons in anticlimatic

A while ago I was feeling a bit like Dorothy waking up back in Kansas to a black and white world, possessed with memories of the place I had just been-

“and you were there! and you!”

Today? Those memories feel mostly evaporated with perhaps just a lingering odor. In my hands I hold the reins of a career, the responsibilities of having a house, a partner, a family, a community…

…but why?
Who cares?

The effort to do anything with these reins suddenly feels beyond their worth. I don’t feel any condescension for others, in general and at the moment- but my levels of misanthropy are sky high. Every person I see I pick apart and loathe for one reason or another- myself included. Usually I idle at something of the opposite- picking them apart, MAYBE, but only to single out something to appreciate, even just in theory.

Have I, through openness and naiveté, invited a poison unknown into my life that has corrupted my energy, optimism, and ability to forge meaning out of whole cloth? Or have I, through openness and perception, pursued too many “whys” to a dark and inevitable end?

Last updated July 08, 2024