Hungry

I need to feel alive again. I need to do something that makes me worth while. I’m just wondering from room to room around my cold empty house, waiting for the time to move faster so I can start cooking lunch. I don’t want to do housework, or read, or watch TV, I’ve been doing all of that for days and it’s not working. I want to stand on top of a hill and stare down at little buildings and tiny people going about their lives. I want breathe in the scent of trees and run through fields to feel my heart beating my body back to life.
I can’t stay here, confined in this little space, alone and left to play house while my partner goes to win his bread. I hate him for it, I hate depending on him for my own survival.

I loathe my pathetic life. I want to be at that peaceful stage where I’m grateful for oxygen but I only feel hatred for it, the more air I breathe the less air someone more worthy is denied. I feel guilty for being here, on this planet occupying space when smart, talented, more deserving people who were born into this world were wrongfully taken from it . When children die from starvation and I scoff bread and guzzle water like there’s no tomorrow. I don’t deserve to be here, nobody can say that I do, a snivelling wreck planted in middle class Europe to complain of the privilege. Except I am here. No drought or famine has killed me off, no disease epidemic or storm has taken me down, so shouldn’t I be doing something with the certainty of seeing in the next day?

Well I’m not and therein lies the reason for all of this. My precious time is not spent well, my fresh food and safe water are not savoured, my life is filled by making money for luxuries that I use to induce some sort of vague happiness from the pointlessness of the lifelong endeavour to get more from everything, to all but bleed rocks to feed the greed in human nature.

I look at my memories and the only ones of significance are the ones when I feel insignificant. When I’m standing on a mountain chewing a piece of ham and swigging water from a spring, proud of reaching the peak with only minor injuries that will take a few days to recover from, if that. 

I don’t believe we were made to conquer this world as we have, but only to enjoy it and help each other survive it and I think we’ve forgotten that. No one helps anyone, and if it came down to it I know we’d all sacrifice each other to get more, time, money, whatever… I’d be the first to go. I sometimes feel like the only one living, and everybody else are robots, programmed to group together and get along and I just want to sit in my garden and feed the sparrows.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s