It’s funny how freedom itself can become a kind of prison. Without others around you the very word free becomes meaningless. Trapped within ourselves with only your own interdialog to keep us company. I remember a time when I was surrounded by people. Not everyone being a close friend, but close enough to share an experience or a moment together. Now I sit here with just my words and images to share over a lifeless social platform hoping for just a few likes.
I suppose I should have seen this coming, after years of self-isolation. Burdened with a fear I never asked for, but sure as hell received. It’s a wonder I’m still around to be perfectly honest. Because if my mental state wasn’t going to kill me, my physical state surely would do me in by now. Yet here I stand (or at least sit). Pushing through to yet another decade. But as the clock ticks I’m getting to live longer than my parents. It’s a strange unfamiliar feeling to know that that with each passing moment, I’m experiencing more of life than they.
Well let me put my morbid thoughts back in my pocket and celebrate what I do have. A family that loves me despite myself. A wife that is faithful to a fault. And at least one person that I’ve never had to prove a thing too. To die without a legacy isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. But to die without your name falling off some one’s lips without love? Now that’s a fate I would wish on no one.
All post written by
FD Thornton, Jr
All Rights Reserved.