Restless and Living in Oblivion
Sometimes one finds oneself overcome with a feeling that cannot be shaken. It’s hard to understand and even harder to explain when the curious inquire. It is a sadness that permeates the soul and can only be dislodged as gradually as it comes upon it’s unwitting and, in my case, hypersensitve victim.
Oblivion is where I often live… restless and tossing in the ennui of my life, realizing fully that all responsibility for putting the adventure in my life or for producing meaningful expressions of my urgent need to communicate rests solely upon my own weak shoulders.
It’s like riding in the sidecar of one’s own life and no one is in the driver’s seat.
That hardly sounds like something I would settle for and yet… and yet… here the fuck I am! How did this happen? More importantly, how does it stop?
Stay tuned for my escape from Oblivion… it could happen. Sure.
Afterall, being restless here is the first step.
