Run

There are days when I want to run.

Thoughts of freedom not cornered by life where I can simply exist without expectations or responsibilities.

A return to the feral heart of man occupies my desires. Free of these make-believe problems and tasks.

I live in a false reality that believes it’s real. These people actually believe that this is life, sitting here worrying about arbitrary numbers that represent something with no intrinsic value. Wishing the days of their lives away, killing their youth in the search for fake wealth and imaginary relationships.

Some day’s I just want to run.

I want to live a life apart from the masses for the common man is a fool. I want to be free from the materialistic control that grips us by our throats. I want to find what it is that truly makes man happy.

Of course I say all this while typing on a 15 inch MacBook Pro in my highrise condo while watching netflix on my flatscreen TV stream through my xbox 360 and eating an instant frozen dinner.

What I want is what I cannot have. I am a bird whose wings have been clipped. I enjoy these distractions far too much. I depend on these distractions far too much.

I want to run but my legs wont move. 

To what this future holds

I wonder some days as to who I am becoming, what I am underneath it all.

I sit in an office starring into a false reality 42.5 hours a week, 170 hours a month, 2,040 hours a year.

I close my eyes Monday morning and when I open them it is Friday afternoon and I'm leaving work. My life is in fast forward.

When I was a child it felt like four lifetimes for the school year to finish and summer to come along. Now I jump from year to year like a stone skipping on water.

What I need is a purpose.

What this purpose will be I have no idea. I write this down simply to remind myself that there is more than just this job, this house, this car.

You see my reality has been deformed by the very things I love. The language I speak, the country I live, the books I read, the television I watch and the people I love have all distorted my reality and my self in one way or another.

What I am is a by-product of infinite stimuli fighting over which one is seen, heard, experienced.

What exists is a limitless potential to become.

I could quit my job today and tear down this illusion of "I" and build something new, something different.

However that is not the point. To replace a mask with but another mask you will continue to remain hidden.

What I need is to find how to remove said mask and resist the urge to cover up once more.

I wonder who and what I am, and to what I will become.