Thursday, June 30, 2011

untitled.

I have been having this feeling recently. It feels like the end is near. I don’t mean this in a morbid way. I don’t mean that I am going to kill myself. I just feel like there isn’t much left for me to do around here. I have done a good deal in my life. Not nearly as much as other people. But I have done enough for me. What I have done is enough.
Perhaps the reason is because I feel so stagnate. Its easy to no longer be able to view the future when you cant move any further into it. Or perhaps its the music being played. Or the music I fear I will never make.
Perhaps it is because no matter where I turn, it seems that there are no new human beings worth anything. All the friends and love I will ever need--I have been feeling--were left in my hometown, and in Oneonta. Who knows.
Perhaps it is because it is slowly starting to sink in the my grandfather is dead. And that the rest of my life now--underneath all of the good times spent with family--will be this ugly feeling that their clocks are all ticking down, too. One by one, they will all go. And--one by one--I will have to bury them all.
As my father drove me from Albany to the hospital room where my grandfathers brain was randomly shooting electricity everywhere--because that is all it could do--he told me this: that after the first of his immediate family passed away, life wasn’t fun anymore. It was just a waiting room for inevitable deaths.
Life isn’t fun anymore.

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