I don’t know if there are any more lonely questions than “What is the point of this anymore?”
The past feel weeks have been…weird. We hit some major roadblocks with immigration for my brother (I called racist officers). Three of my friends/acquaintances (from completely different groups) are going through a divorce. Work has been a rollercoaster. The provincial election is hopeless. The country is facing a choice between incompetence and fascism. The forest is on fire and the heat waves start in May.
I guess the pandemic is really over over. People have traded in their kindness for routine discrimination. People insist everyone gets back to the office. People trade in their walks and their quiet with the noise.
Even joyful things like gardening feel like a chore. Even relaxing computer games are not relaxing me anymore. I wanted to talk to someone, but quite frankly there is no one to talk to.
I’m tired. It feels like a pandemic hangover. It feels like this sense of hopelessness. No, worse, this sense of aimlessness. I’m not even restless anymore.
I am at the point of quitting trying. And quite frankly I don’t know what is worse.
The thought of a quiet beach town, a place at the end of the earth, where no one is there, and this aimless loneliness actually makes some form of sense, suddenly becomes so appealing. And I don’t know if it’s Buddhism or escapism.
And that also doesn’t feel like it matters to me anymore, the distinction of anything.
Pace Fine Arts 