In this Society of Spectacle, I have never felt so alone. So cold, so isolated, so circumspect, so hollow, so...alone. Alone with everybody. I know that I am most likely painting myself as a maudlin adolescent drowning in a sea of Morrissey records, clinging to the desperate edge of now with a dose of Epicurean malaise—but honestly, even if such an illustration is indeed true, I am merely a human being suffering from culture, alienation, boredom, and despair, relating to vanished rockstars more than fellow teenagers (for the most part). Living a life inundated with regret was never an aspiration of my own, and yet here I am, pensively draped across my velveteen armchair, entertaining an alternate self that did not routinely push people away. I cannot fathom just how many friendships that have eluded me, primarily for the petty sake of self-preservation and impenetrable protection—all attempts proving to be absolutely futile, thanks to this present state of gut-wrenching vacancy which obfuscates my flickering vision as the seconds roll by.
Life can become quite barren when all one possesses are fictional characters, inaccessible musicians, and alternate selves to commit temporicide with—not to mention the so-called conglomeration of 'friends' which flaunt their esteemed title in the most superficial fashion possible, obtaining one's trust to only discard it the very next day. Or the pure ones get away. I suppose, what this painful rant is trying to convey, is that although we may experience the dying engine of motorcycle emptiness (by the Manic Street Preachers), or feel as if we are 'low in high school' (by Morrissey), we are a collective unit in the process and are never truly alone—even though reality may convince us otherwise. Jesus, I truly do sound like a cloying teenager. Shiver! Anyway, I hope that you were able to discover a portion of yourself within this mausoleum-of-a-text, as the notion of containing my saturnine thoughts and insight no longer appeals—I want them to serve a purpose and strike a nerve, to say the least. Before I become a tad too 'preachy', it feels only appropriate to mention that the poetry is in the streets in full, living colour—It always will be.
keaneshine x
"I believe in nothing but it is my nothing."
-Richey Edwards
