This is ludicrous speed. What's here and now and intended to be clear to the senses passes as a blur.
Obsession: desire, Desire: obsession. I know the answer inside is fighting the image of beauty and security.
I can hear it gnawing at my consciousness in the background. Groveling, unnerving, yet deaf to
nonsensical ears. I fear why I desire. I understand how this all works and yet I'm still fixated.
Saturday nights are just the start, a day or two into the week and I'm half way back. By the time
I get home I'm back there again. I am completely aware and yet somehow I'm forced to the margins.
Bench warming and there seems little chance of me getting out alive. A person n more. I watch and I watch.
Absurd recap. A person no more and it feels so good it hurts. I watch again. Recapitulation. Worn down.
This is not where I want to be. Unfamiliar mirrors. I wonder what has become of my life.

The gaps in our lives seem to be so easily replenished with the products of our imagination, allowing ourselves
o believe that the touched-up digital images of perfection are real and set the standard for beauty and truth within
ourselves. But such things tend to leave a person more lonely than she was to start with as the
bombardment of these images through entertainment and advertisements remove us even more from the rawness of life.