I know at some point, i must have felt devastated, or at least lived under the illusion that i was. I must have felt like i could die for someone, and i must have felt something of undying devotion.
But where has it gone? Is this just a symptom of growing up? Adaptability - Mankind’s greatest feature and flaw. It makes happy little drones out of us to the point where we loose the very faculty to feel. A medical triumph, actually. There’s nothing wrong with that for those who want it.
But for me. The purpose in life is vague or inexistant and there’s no light that burns my retinas into a blissful ignorance, so i relish in the experience that becomes duller and duller as each day passes - like a metallic aftertaste in my mouth.
So the rat race got to me, but i’m not upset, angry or bitter. There’s just a peach coloured nothing that borders contentedness.
