“Good morning – don’t cop out…”

“Good morning – Don’t cop out
You crawled from the cancer to land on your feet
Are you crazy to want this, even for a while?…
We’re done lying for a living
The strange days are coming and you’re
You’re gone, you’re gone
Either dead or drying
Either dead or trying to go…”
Strange Days – Matthew Good Band

This song was on the playlist of songs I would blare when waking up was painful, in the throes of a deep bout of depression.  It felt fitting, given the opening salutation:  “Good morning – don’t off yourself.  That’s the easy way out.”  It felt, to me, a perfect description of our current world, one in which we commute, work, eat and disconnect further, losing the sense of community that was once the backbone of human civilization.

It’s the sort of song I turn to when I need to ease out of numbed autopilot existence, when I begin to emotionally shut down.  And lately, even music can barely touch my heart.  I know that this is the mind’s way of coping with overwhelming duress, but for someone so governed by passion and emotion, it’s a terrifying existence.  I appreciate that it keeps me from buckling to my knees at work and screaming of the injustices I feel are being inflicted upon those I love, but when away from work, I don’t sleep, I don’t cry….  I don’t feel alive.

One of us is dying.  That is one too many.  I need not join.

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