Floating in a void of self, I lose myself daily in a succession of tv series episodes, podcasts, books and audiobooks which entertain my brain leaving the usual work, gym and sleep to fill the blanks of life in, for that is the true order of our time. Work is not a choice as such, but rather a necessary evil. I had a friend call last night, a fellow 40 year old lamenting his lost youthfulness as he converse with workmates who were not born at the time of moments he references in conversations.
I guess everyone is a dying breed constantly.
It was good to have a friend call but we both laughed at our antisocial choices of being happier in our own company. His tales of family worries and day to day bitching made me yet again understand I'm better off out of it.
Solitude and loneliness are close relations no doubt but exhibit different outcomes.
One is chosen and the other is forced upon you.
Today my son realised that while in his car seat he could reach the automatic window button. He has always used his foot to lower his window since the button is near the gearstick. The realisation of growth (plus his fast shortening trousers) gave us both an excited satisfaction that we'd mentally logged this historic point. Like any parent, I fear my child growing up but at the same time celebrate these moments with him.
I visited my grandma today (94) who told me that her 'skin was like paper' as when she ripped off a plaster who skin came with it. Add this to the conversations with her 100 year old sister being almost gibberish because of her bleeding on the brain, and it's left me with a new fear of the end of my life. My forties arrived and so will death. I only hope it is at least another 50 years away.
Sometimes I question whether I'm fully living at all. The voice in my head debates with me that you are only alive if you are in a relationship. But for the most part I know this to not be true.
Do we really need others to validate our existence?
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