Page 37 - The First Letter To My Lady.
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J U L Y 2 0 2 1
Social stratification just gets worse and worse. I can’t find the
words for it anymore. So, I think I’ll just focus on the one
thing that’s still gold. You.
“If all it took to mean something, for someone; was a stream
of textual presence, topped with social hangouts, where went
care and affections of a longing persistence?” Is texting
enough? Seeing modern love all around me, I pondered the
idea of compatibility again. “What do we talk about, when we
talk about love?”
I do not have the answer.
It was soul-wrenching to be amused without a muse. In
utero, in statis, in degrees, “in the time of chimpanzees I was
a monkey”. I jumped guilty branch after branch - seeking
camaraderie. Peering through my peers for the one I might
share a frequency with – all for naught.
As semester after semester settled into a forgotten dusk. I
fail at the prospect of being simpatico. I grow sourer by the
day in the face of my failure finding the concept of social
groupism
