Why doesn’t it feel like it used to?
Did something change? Of course. But I use to enjoy this.
The work is not the same, and play seems a distant thought.
The necessity, the vanity, the ego, the insecurity.
A nice body was a side effect, now it is the goal.
What about all the other stuff? Sleep less, drink more, drive more, sit more, move less.
Isn’t it a wonder things start to stick together?
It’s a wonder more doesn’t breakdown sooner.
We look for an easy fix, we look for the trick, we look back to memories of more speed, less pain, moving with ease, chasing greatness.
Now, we chase nothing. Now, we reminisce instead of dream. Why?
Age, time, discomfort, these are inventions of mortals.
Who else tells you who you are?
You use a number as an excuse, and these stories you tell yourself take up too much room in your head.
Movement is maintenance. Our bodies were built to lift, run, swing, climb, fuck, fight, and if you don’t use it for those things, your body forgets how those things feels, forgets how to do those things, and then you die.