Too Much Skull Air

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She feels a bit rutted,” I thought to myself. A bit scratchy around the temples. A bit ragged in the midsection. A bit dehydrated, a bit sleepy, a bit weak in the lower spine, a bit sunburnt, a bit bored.

There are too many words and not enough ways to use them. Too many words that aren’t, yet. Too many words said too often. Too many people saying too many words, so the people all sound the same, and all the words sound like nothing.

I found an old sticky note in some of my office belongings that says, “I’m a step away from madness, but that’s how art is made.” And I wondered, for a long time, what was going on in the brain of the person who wrote that. That person happens to be me, but I don’t remember my exact constitution in the moment I scribbled that down. Maybe I was hungry. Maybe I was late to a meeting. Maybe I was frustrated with the inevitable redundancy of my job. I’ve decided that the nature of modern employment is overly glorified at best and a slow descent into psychopathy at worst.

How many times do we need to do the same thing until our skulls hold nothing but air? I’m convinced that the reason so many people cheat on their partners is out of boredom, and most of us have fairly boring lives. But cheating is easy. A lot of people do it, and anyone could. It’s an easy…