Life's a Gas.

“Life's a gas”. I never understood that saying until recently. I've been able to feel myself dissipating into the o-zone, praying on my fading knees that someone will come light the spark that will ignite whatever is left of me into a brilliant blue flame. With my limbs slowly fading, hope for that spark wanes, as I slowly sublimate into an uncontrollable weightlessness in which I have no control over my own direction.

It's hard to pinpoint when I first realized what was happening to me. I'm quite certain it predates the moment I felt I could give an accurate description of the feeling, but certainty is something I'm seriously lacking in this moment. 

Safety in numbers? Bullshit. Numbers have only created problems in life; socially, economically, mentally, pick your poison. Clearly the statement needs to be revised, perhaps “Safety in solitude”? Aside from the obvious aesthetic pleasures of the consonant “s” sounds in the phrase, logically it just makes more sense. Numbers do nothing but falsely elevate ones true sense of self, money doesn't buy happiness right? Surrounding yourself with friends doesn't make you anything but a face in a crowd. It works inversely as well. Having little or no money, leaves you wanting more. Having little or no friends isolates you. 

This is where the safety in solitude comes in. If you cannot accomplish a degree of self satisfaction in whatever you seek, then you just forever spiral into a materially abundant apocalypse of dollar signs(Or lack thereof) and the people passed out on your floor after a crazy night.

Yes, I had some idea of these notions ticking away in my synapses, but of course being blinded by the grandeur of life as others saw it, my world was clouded. Corrupt with indecision and unease at every corner.

Thinking about situations, acting on situations and reacting to situations, I have learned, create a stability in life as it is. Caution is well advised though, for those three things must be done in that exact order. Enough people in the world act without thinking, and never react correctly afterwords. People seem to have gotten used to that mindset, for I've decided to a degree, it's what powers the minds of your everyday person. 

I come from the other angle of the spectrum, thinking without acting and without acting there is no reacting (at least in the way it should be). Go figure I've beat my head against a wall on this one. At first glance it seems so simple. “All you have to do is say this and everything will work out”. God damned story of my life. If I'm going to look before I leap, you're damned right I'm not going to leap if there's reasonable doubt in my mind that I'm going to fall. Call that philosophy whatever you please, to each their own. 

All of this, continuing on for years upon years has finally brought me to the knowledge of my own dissipation into nothingness. Emotacular? Depressing? Cold, bitter realism? Who knows. All I know is that as hard as I try to communicate, I'm left with only one outlet. Pen and paper. Or in this case virtual ink on virtual canvas. My apparent life force. Nights spent basking in artificial light, the background pulsations of music within my eardrums, an emotional and intellectual separation from the world around me. Freedom. 

I'm not even sure where I’m beginning to go with this. Maybe I'll step inside the mystical closet to Narnia and tell you how I saved the say by feeding the poor. Or maybe I'll decide to go back to the very early days of my collaborative existence in hopes you'll find my life interesting. Maybe I'll just decide I don't give a shit and stop here.

Guess you'll just have to wait and see.