I live my life through the prism of capitalism and physiological limits and eventualities.
I got three letters today telling me that I'm god. Why can't I pay the rent?
How memories lie to us. How time coats the ordinary with gold. How it breaks the heart to go back and attempt to re-live them. How crushed we are when we discover that the gold was merely gold-plating thinly coated over lead, chalk and peeling paint.
Do you know why Albert Camus was so prolific? He wrote to keep from screaming.
Now you see how you are, the wisdom mixed in with all the scars.
Thank you for touching me. Some of the only moments worth living were spent with you. Not you especially, the collective you.