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| Life as a specimen. |
For a long while now , I've felt as though my life is a specimen. Not one lived from ones own perspective, rather one lived for the sole purpose of research. Not my own of course and that is what is so maddening. Who would possibly see my life as a research worthy endeavour? Yes, there have been one or two peculiar /painful/embarrassing/obnoxious/overwhelming and distasteful moments. But there have been many more mundane days of which it seems merely the waiting out was the most exciting part of that day! Some of these of course were very pleasing days...days of idyll ...I recall living far from the city and laying in the shade on the porch, closing my eyes, listening to the stillness, the only break to which being the droning of an "heavier than air" bumble bee, or the mewing of a gull. However, I digress...yes, a feeling that I am living my life for another's amusement. Being pull/pushed along and making decisions that didn't seem like mine in the end at all.
What I did recognize as my very own, was a feeling of dread, deep sadness, disappointment in my fellow man...(when I say "my fellow man" it just seems so false)
I don't feel a part of mankind at all. Some would say I have a feeling of disenchantment, disengagement, of not belonging. Not so, I say. It is a feeling that I belong, but the rest of you are trespassing in my world. To add to that - you are making a right bloody mess of it! More to follow I think...perhaps.
