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We’re all in a five-mile radius of isolation.
We’re all sitting on the same couch contemplating.
We’re all not old enough.
We’re all getting too old, too fast.
We’re all choking on our own breath.
We’re all anxiously alienated.
We’re all impatiently claiming, that we’re patiently waiting.
We’re all declaratively denying our fear of indefinitely dying before
this and that.
The necessity of achieving goals of the soul,
Fear of being old and alone,
Fear of not knowing the unknown.
We’re all sitting on this same couch contemplating,
in this five-mile radius of unique mental isolation.
Divided by box checking racial identification,
newly defined sexual orientations,
social media pics of marital bliss,
secretly hopin’ this will be your last first kiss,
pistol whipped by psychological glocks.
We’re all fine but not fine,
Trying but still dying.
Unanimously unique yet identical isolation in this five-mile radius.
Behind the poem: This poem is about everyone and no one in particular. In the week that I wrote this I spoke with five different close friends. All of them were experiencing anxiety about something different: a big move, a new job, a divorce, stagnation, parenting, dating, new business endeavors, etc. etc. What they all individually shared was a feeling of anxiety and emotional isolation. They asked if I’d ever felt this way. What did it feel like for me? I shared that not only have I felt this way, everyone close to me has shared in this. It’s okay to not always be fine. It’s okay to feel fear and anxiety. And when you are sitting on the couch anxiously contemplating this or that you should know that in less than a 5 mile radius there are many other people doing the exact same thing. We aren’t as different as we think, and we need not feel so isolated.