inside

Many of them walk down the street perpendicular to my house and, if I am gracious enough to have the curtains open, they are able to look through the window and see me sitting here at the computer. Some of them look at me as if curious to know what I am doing and merely walk past unaffected. Some of them look at me with an air of tragedy, the sense of sorrow showing on their faces for what they perceive to be a wasted life. Perhaps they empathise and are walking home to spend the rest of their weekend alone too, but I suspect that most are walking home to their partners. They think that doing so is not a waste of life. I believe that my time spent here at the keyboard is a thousand times more worthwhile than the time that they spend with their partners. This is how the world works; we all have our hopeless opinions. Never the less, to me, the thought of sitting in one’s house with one’s partner saying such trivial banalities as ‘we must trim that hedge tomorrow... it is starting to block the view of the statue at the end of the path.’ is the source of absolute and true misery and waste.          

                I pour an ice cold beer into a glass and sit back down to continue writing... more of them walk past and upon seeing the glass there is a new look in their eyes... this is the look of horror. How dare a person sit at home alone and drink? How dare a person drink on a Sunday evening when they must surely have to work tomorrow? The next door neighbours walk in and out, busying themselves with little chores or walking their child in its pram down the street and back up again. Anything so long as they never have to speak. Anything so long as they never have to sit still and actually think. Thinking, of course, may lead them to the conclusion that their lives are still meaningless in spite of the fact that they own a house, have a marriage, and a child. No one ever pointed out to them that life has no purpose, that it is merely a series of random events. Actually, somewhere along the line, someone must have told them this but they simply did not believe it. Happiness... oh, it will come once you have that husband or wife... once you have that house... that car... and if all of that should for some reason fail... once you have that child then all happiness is finally found. No, life simply goes on with all of its frustrations and disappointments. Many have come before you and many will come after you. In the mean time... I’m free to do anything I fuckingwell please.