Spiritual Bumper-cars

All the surfaces are reflective in this town. I can’t find the pores, the holes where smells and sounds are supposed to seep in, where humanity seeps out. It all hovers here, above the surface in fine, separate layers. Nothing commingles. Siloed and segregated I walk through busy, bustling streets surrounded by an invisible shield of my own scent, energy, thoughts. Here they play spiritual bumper-cars and no one ever wins. No one gets bumped, but we all define winning differently…

I have never experienced anomie the way I learned in sociology class. I could never internalize the feeling, understand what it meant to feel alone in a sea of life. I am starting to wrap my head around it now. I’m not there, but the prospect has become less hypothetical.

I teeter between anger and sadness, disbelief and frustration. How? And more importantly, why? Why live in a cocoon when you can be out in the world? Is it a protectionist instinct? Self-preservation? What about the green of my eyes makes you look away so quickly? What is it in the curve of my smile that has you turning away?