Maybe if I write about it, it won’t come for me tonight. I’ve been having a recurring nightmare, that I’m back in the high school I went to, and I’m as old as I am now. I turned 34 on Wednesday, and I’m starting to feel a little old. There is no way I could be mistaken for a teenager, and in the dream I am mocked by the teachers of the classes; “That’s what happens to con artists.”
I’m not convinced they are wrong. I think I was a con artist, thinking I could pull a career out of my skills and limitations. Now what though? I’m not fit for the work I’m trained for, and there isn’t much hope in training for something new.
Sometimes when I meet teens in real life, I get so depressed. Like, okay, yes, economy and social structure are on the decline, but I’m old and damaged enough to know it’s downhill to death. What about young people?! They have years more before they’ll find out how hopeless things really are.
I think it’s also why I’m afraid to have children. Who would subject a human being to the world as it is now? some sort of sadist? a con artist, without any doubt, all parents are. They believe their kids will grow up to be something. Why? You didn’t, no one does anymore. We all grow more foolish and more damaged, until those things kill us.
children are supposed to represent hope, but all I see now is death and suffering.
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I may have resolved the conflict; I’m looking for love and acceptance in a place it can never be. Some people are cruel, it’s a conditioned response and a choice. I can’t make them choose otherwise, and I might as well be shopping for a video game at a hardware store if I think there will ever be love found there.
I am empty, and there are some people that no matter how hard I try, will never understand, because they don’t want to. Maybe, there are people out there who want to understand. It seems a better task to continue the search, rather than try to pry understanding out of ignorance.