#free thought
Certain times I can’t see
For there are many things which cloud my eyes
they are not mine but still I play with them
like old cards or memories of games like Uno and Monopoly
where Laughing and joking were the norm with Mac and cheese
a delicious desert
especially with the burnt crusty cheese
I miss those times
I could write about freedom
I could write about the lack of care, the ease of being, the peace of nothingness
The barrier of not doing, the weight of dependency, the unease of stagnationI could write about being forgiving of self
Relaxing expectation, easing restraint, forgiving inability
The one day lived on repeat, the lack of ambition, the non-answer to the question of productivityI could be writing but there’s nothing worth saying.
I’m here. Doing not much of anything. In peace. A state of low-impact and barely existing.
Alive but not living by any external standard.And I do not want more than this.
Just less of the obligation of things I am not doing, less of the call for explanation, less of the discomfort.There is some sense of anguish.
Something that is placed on me only when I am reminded of the call of society, all that I should be doing, could be doing
That check-in becomes a blinding reminder that you are nought but what you produce, so what are you producing?
You have to do something.To which I say, no.
I’d rather not, thank you.But the calling never stops and even the strangers want to know, so what are you doing?
And every answer sounds like laziness and there’s a shame that begins to grow that didn’t exist before the question, so why
Must they ask it?I am merely existing.
That is all I must do.
Everything else is an expectation based on a lie and it might not be pretty but I am able to step outside of it and say No.
I cannot with any semblance of ease, and I will not with any fragment of desire.So, no.