There is a feeling in the air like some sort of change is about to occur.
Like we’re on the edge of something, not necessarily great but something profound.
We’re all waiting for it and biding our time until it gets here.
We don’t concentrate on it much but it’s always there, tapping away at the back of our minds.
It’s something we don’t talk about because we don’t want to sound crazy.
We don’t realise we all feel it.
We don’t want to know that other people feel it too.
We don’t want to vocalize and therefore name – it – for fear that it will manifest and take our homes or our children or our mobile phones.
We know it’s not going to be a good thing because things that have this sense of inevitability are never good.
We watch other peoples fear grow into fruition on our television sets and shake our heads and quietly say a hollow prayer, or “sucked in!”
We mask our fear of it with talk of everyday things, like weather and office gossip; who’s sleeping with whom and who’s getting the axe.
We mask our fear of it with violence, to distract ourselves from the reality of its impending arrival, or just to blow off some steam once in a while…but it won’t happen again, I promise, sweetheart.
We mask our fear with accomplishment and achieving goals to make the time we do have seem worthwhile.
To be the best in something, to receive honors and trophies, dust collectors to count your hollow life by.
Ghost counters of a dead responsibility.
The pats on the back wear off pretty quick and one refusal of an autograph will bring about a down turn in your popularity (unless your popularity is solely based on the fact that your are the sort of person to refuse autographs, in which case you’re free to carry on).
Every so often something will happen to us and we will wonder if this is the beginning of it, and we still carry on with our lives as those fears bubble closer to the surface.
But time heals all wounds, someone said, and in time we go back to just being accustomed to those vague feelings, urges and fears.
Then we die.