Sitting in the faux coffeeshop that is, my home
Looking. Thinking. People watching through my window.
Listening. Waiting. Mostly, reading.
So many thoughts to process.
A million potential decisions flit through my mind from moment to moment.
90% of what I see online are people pouring out the content of their hearts on Twitter, on Facebook, on Ello, about the current discourse. Knowing full well that tapping a heart or clicking that 'like' button will alter the algorithm of the site to decide that I want nothing more than to see a lot more of the same over all else. I don't, and so I don't engage. I do, however, continue to read.
I want to write 'I hear you,' and other empathetic messages to random strangers. I just know that activity would easily consume the most productive hours of my day. So I try to think of something else, but I don't know what to say.
Right now, I feel like I don't have much power behind anything I could say and If I do join the firehose of convicted confessionals I will merely be echoing words from of a plethora of those far more passionate than I am.
numb. I am
wanting to make good. I am
still. I am
sitting up, alert. I am
listening. I am
watching the ping pong of conflict. I am
striving to be honest. I am
deciding to stand. I am
there with you. I am
on deck. I am
next. I am
here. I am
now able to speak. but I am
wondering why I am
unable to find the courage to share these thoughts, just as I am.