Call of the play

I feel like a slave; tormented by my habitual forces. There's no one around: I don't know how to find the others. I don't know how to reconnect with society. I haven't been able to make a friend in years...

There's no common sense. There's no space for natural human activity. It's all so... bleak, the future - and I'm a pretty optimistic person, usually - and I just wonder why there's nothing fun. I don't understand the purpose of these bars, condos, salons, restaurants, corner stores - you name it, it's still a very consumerist culture, and I'd rather make my own cocktails, save up for my little bungalow in a safe space somewhere, cook the BEST fking food I know how to make during the seasons, and avoid the temptation of the junk the food corporations sell to me.

Where are the places for card games? Where are the musicians playing music on street corners? Where are the frisbee games in the parks? Naught but dog walkers and city commuters, some busier than the next soul seemingly; stammeringly; through the sleepless nights; the city authoritative soundscape boring like a hot knife through my brain, when I only want to listen to the wind.

I want my good life back, when I felt like the city was alive and brimming with vitality. My youth, I suppose, which I refuse to give up on.

This metropolis has crumbled in front of my very eyes. WTF.