♫ journal 5/01/2025

sad sack

The thing about being a sad sack, is that there’s nothing really nice about it at all. You drag yourself along, barely moving an inch at a time but you feel every pebble and bump catch on the lose skin that hangs off of you anyway. Like sysyphus but you never get to start over. There’s no moments pause right before you get going again. There’s no choice to keep going– well, there is– but it’s always a choice clouded by suffering.

The Sack has one thought to hold onto, though, and that is that although he cannot ever stop dragging or crawling or catching on pebbles, and despite the fact that he is deeply unsatisfied, and despite the fact that he wishes he was a child instead of a sack, that way he could kick the dirt and ball his fists and stomp and scream that he didn’t ~want to crawl along all day. Although all of those things bothered the sack, he found comfort in the thought that the earth was carrying him. And maybe it was the earths fault that he was in this position, but he liked the idea of being carried nonetheless. And he thought about how the earth’s crawled through space while he crawled over the earth and how, at least, he was not entirely alone in his crawling. And since the earth had been crawling for a great many years now, since long before he was born, maybe it would stumble upon the answer to their shared problem before he did. Maybe at some point in their lifetimes they could both stop.