I’m looking at all of these people on the bus, but mostly just at a couple that hasn’t felt the passion of a loving relationship in years, but at 65, there’s seemingly nothing else to do. They sit together, not because they feel any comfort in the other person being at their side, but because they can’t remember how else to do it.
It reminds me of Joakim’s family. The family that saw me as some beacon of light for the four days that I stayed there because I finally brought something different into their miserable, unchanging lives.
Joakim, who told me “It’s so cool that you know what you want and you just go for it.”
It scares me that a person could do anything else.
I’m so afraid of living that life. The life full of regret, and being used to that regret. I’m scared of not knowing anything other than the husband I’ve hated for 42 years and the two asshole kids that I never see, sitting in a bus on the way to the same grocery store I’ve gone to for the past 35 years. Through it’s changing of names and refinishing of pavement in the parking lot, scared of dying and yet more afraid of being alive.
And I wonder if people are born that way or if it’s just how they die after a life of trying and giving up, and settling for for much less than they ever wanted.
I’m scared of everything these days; of time changing and of not seeing the people I want to see. I’m afraid of not living out my life’s purpose, and I’m afraid that purpose is just something humans have made up in order to not go insane while they go down the terrible road of desire and feeling, of just living and wanting to be important, and dying in the end.
Most days I feel like I’m going crazy because when you realize you don’t really have anything to offer the world other than 50 to 60 years of wandering around with self proclaimed purpose, it definitely brings you down. But for some reason, I keep going, like everyone else, trying to be different.