Just another young man in London.
I don’t really know where I’m going, and I’m not entirely sure who I want to be yet. I question the world more than anyone I know, and tend to feel an ongoing hint of dissatisfaction with what life throws at me. Its not euphoric highs and melancholic lows. Its simply a lingering feeling of drifting discontentment. And with every day that passes me by I think the world can see that in my eyes.
I find there is far more to disagree with than to agree with. More things rile me than please me. I don’t like the way that society is going, and don’t even like where it is right now. A festering community where morals are warped, principles of old forgotten, and people are chewed up and spat out like aimlessly meandering fodder.
Its not that I don’t look forward to the future, I do – or atleast I want to. But as another forgettable day ambles past me I find it frustrating that I have lost myself. I’m still there in how I project myself to the world – as long as you don’t look too closely. But my eyes tell a story of a young man lost in a world that isn’t quite how I’d imagined it. I barely get a chance to look up and take stock, to assess what it is I want and who it is I am. I just stumble along like every other clockwork shiftworker in the colony and let life push me in whichever direction is chooses to.
When you’re young, the world dangles a carrot that promises excitement to come. It hints at a place that is full of adventure, beautiful scenes, heart-touching moments of timeless love and romance. But where these are I am yet to discover, and as another bus wades into the interminable London traffic I find myself crippled in a world of exhaustion and monotony. My mind is stifled by self-induced lethargy, and with this flattened spirit I find myself frustrated as I question what I’m here for. This same tiredness makes it hard for me to break the cycle, and this limp justification for why I continue to drift on annoys me even more.
Before I go on, I should assure you I’m not depressed, not at all, and certainly not suicidal. More disillusioned than anything else. I just feel lost, that’s all. Everywhere I look, I see people pursuing things that have no value to me at all, and I cant relate to them or their very existence. At the crux of it, that is why London is a difficult place for me to live. Here, superficial qualities are given a status like no other. A child grows up and would rather be a reality TV celebrity than a heart surgeon. Talentless glamour models are considered role models by naïve young girls who dream of marrying a footballer so that they can get a table in Movida and buy a new Gucci bag every weekend. Please tell me that you can see what is wrong with that picture?
I'll talk about it more tomorrow.
