WTS SSOY

[Knuckle]

He listened quietly, the thunderstorm abated. The storm of his thoughts continued, a brief moment of complete and utter presence, memories of his past and present clashing together out of sync, the growth and change had not quite come to terms with the past, and there lies the anxiety. If we can move forward and ignore the past while making supposed progress, then we are little better than seconds on a clock.

He shook his head, stood up, and stretched. The tightness in his chest was still there, but his muscles were loose now. His thoughts began to wax nostalgic, yearning for simpler times and simpler minds.

He looked outside to the dark night sky, a haunting melody of piano and violin drifted in the wind, reminding him of the thinking days. He wasn't always so frantic, the full time worker does not have time to pause and reflect. He must move forward, or else be crushed beneath the machines heel.

Thinking and reflecting were a leisure he could ill afford. The catch 22 was finding a way to reshape reality without destroying his financial possibilities. Inevitably he ignored change, seeking a form of escape through sex, alcohol, games, drugs, and even friends. Yes, by keeping busy and spending free time in escapism, the reality was tolerable in 50 hour increments each week.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He blinked his eyes. The sound of traffic resumed on the street below. The mind began to buzz as a myriad of industrial distractions tuned his thoughts back to the simulation of life. The TV blurted noises, the a/c made its gentle hum, neighbors closed and opened doors and a motorcycle blared in the distance.

He had been thinking about something, a dream or some such. No matter, he had errands to run, things to do.