In Life We Sit At The Table

We Move Through The Day Like Two Hands Of A Clock: Sometimes We Overlap For A Moment, Then Come Apart Again, Carrying On Alone. Everyday Exactly The Same: The Tea, The Burnt Toast, The Crumbs, The Silence.

How Was It Possible To Wake Up Every Day And Be Recognizable To Another When So Often One Was Barely Recognizable To Oneself?

Why Are We So Addicted To Factual Knowledge? Why Are We So Uncomfortable With The Unknown? Is It Something About The Anxiety Of Our Time? Because Of Course That Wasn't Always The Way. Even Now The Whole Idea Of The Rational Individual Has Been Subject To Question And Yet We Still Cling To This Idea Of Factual, Rational Knowledge Being More Valuable Than Whatever Its Opposite Might Be.

Alone In My Room, Wrapped In A Blanket, I Whimpered And Talked Aloud To Myself, Recalling The Lost Glory Of My Youth When I Considered Myself, And Was Considered By Others, A Bright And Capable Person. It Seemed That Was All Gone Now.

I Left The Library. Crossing The Street, I Was Hit Head-on By A Brutal Loneliness. I Felt Dark And Hollow. Abandoned, Unnoticed, Forgotten, I Stood On The Sidewalk, A Nothing, A Gatherer Of Dust. People Hurried Past Me. And Everyone Who Walked By Was Happier Than I. I Felt The Old Envy. I Would Have Given Anything To Be One Of Them.