Why Cant We Just Appreciate The Passing Of Time?

why cant we just appreciate the passing of time?

why must we always rush tp the next thing? the next zoom meeting? the next family gathering? the next test?

why must my soul go back into my body to suffer an experience i never asked for?

why cant i just stop existing in this material stressful world?

i would gladly join the stars in the universe

go somewhere i can just admire beauty and art, reading tragic classics and enjoy life through the eyes and words of hundreds of authors in the comfort of the love of someone who cares for me

are we even that hopeless? or are we just tired of watching the news everyday and get saturated of how many people die everyday? of how many people suffer in uncountable ways and we are helpless in the face of it all? in the face of the corrupt? of the consequences of human made disasters?

are we even that delusional? or are we just tired that our dreams might never come true because the arts, as beautiful as they are, are meaningless to capitalism and paints and pretty words dont make money

am i even that bitter? or am i just so alone and in need of a hug and just want to lie in the middle of a forest and let the world just swallow me and to never have to think again? do i just want to lie here with you waiting for the world to end for it to be only ours when everyone else is gone?

am i even who i present myself to be? or am i the persona that created the least problems for those around me and have nailed that skin so hard into my bones i cannot move without feeling it constraints against my soul?

when Charles Bukowski said "and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

do you ever feel a lump in your throat?

like the words are piling at the base of your throat begging to come out purring but you don't have anyone to talk to

do you ever feel your chest heavy as if you heart was hanging from a thin line;

theres a whole in your chest so you wonder wtf do you feel heavy

yk it would be nice to talk to someone, sometimes

and not even like full on deep conversation, i don't want a therapist, i just want to talk and not feel like time spent hearing me felt like wasting your time

it would be nice to clear your throat every once in a while

and as i am bordering on a line between survival and surrender; antisocial as i may feel i will reach for your hand and pray you can read the begging in my eyes as a cry for help- my voice cannot produce the words it needs anymore, and i wonder, will you be my voice?

is this my dream or is it the materialized unspoken expectation of everyone around me?

i guess we'll figure it out