Misanthrope

I was diagnosed with wishful thinking, after telling the doctor I'd had zero ideas for close to a whole year.

You're not the only one who has no ideas, the doctor says, but you think you're the only one and that's what hurts.

It's difficult living in the era described as being the time between the time the word 'fuck' was first used frequently in public discourse and the stamping and mailing of the last personal letter ever written, I say.

The doctor encourages me to keep speaking but I shut down, thinking I've said too much already.

If I said anything else I'd say that I'm surrounded on all sides by such inadequate language. The best of it only tries to get me to consume stuff and the worst is characterized by dopey plots dreamed up by ex-CIA agents on their digital devices.

And that nothing's easy, not even getting out of bed.

Just once I'd like to have an idea, any idea will do as long as it's new and belongs to me.