Last night, we unwound in my room and stretched out on my bed as we do every night after a long day. Limbs wrapped around here and there, tangled this way and that. We were dozing. But as he dozed and as I almost dozed, my mind began to race like a roadrunner on speed. I looked at his face next to mine and felt sad. As exceedingly happy as I have been and as he makes me, there is this gaping hole in my seemingly happy and satisfied life. That gaping hole was created by my unwillingness to …exist. And I felt sad. Sad but angrier. How can I be happy but find myself not wanting to exist? And it was the thought of money that really constricted me. Every single time that money would cross my mind, I would feel this rising submission to nothingness. To inexistence. To such heavy lethargy that my mind cannot and will not even fathom. I felt the death of my blissful ignorance decay from my destruction of a brain and fall off of any belief it ever clung on to. If I could, I would live my life without any dependence on money at all. Knowing this is impossible, I sometimes...or oftentimes...choose inexistence. How awful is that? That I refuse to live my life because I refuse to be enslaved by all the things that revolve around money. I refuse to live just so I can work just so I can live. We work until we retire in which then we can have "a life". By the time we retire, we've shriveled up into our wrinkled regrets and the life that passed us and stamped us with creases and dreams we never had a chance of ever having.
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