Briana Doesn't Live Here Anymore (Sympatico)

Sometimes I'd rather take a torrent of endless hotels on an interstate of endless dusty roads with an endless array of simple faces passing me by. Is there a difference between asking an endless stream of truckers how they want their eggs versus asking an endless stream of executives how they want their budget? At the end of the day, if I need to drink a bottle of wine or smoke a bowl in order to feel settled, does that not imply that something is out of sorts?

What are we anyway, if not the pursuit of endless dreams?

It's hard to balance in a post-feminist world. If you have any sense of self, that is.

All I know is I'm losing my mind. This much is clear, if only this much. I guess taking stock isn't so great when you're at the point when you realize that you have absolutely no one to....

...and I struggle for the correct phrase here. I have never lacked for friends. I'm a social person. But there are only a small handful of people that you connect with on an intimate level throughout your life. I suppose I'm lacking those people. Perhaps I'm just in between. The limnal spaces are always the worst.

But if you have no one who can call you on your shit or with whom you can let down your guard....you lose something in day to day life.

In the search for sympatico, when do I stop to realize that I can't rely on these people? They come and they go, those. How do other people do it?

At the end of the day, all I really want is to be able to let go in the company of a kindred spirit. Fuzzy sunlit kindred spirit land with it's own soundtrack of acoustic guitar and gentle breezes.

Something that can slow down time for a minute and let you appreciate the subtle details.