THE CITY OF LOST SOULS

I hate where I come from, this substance less city has nothing for me. I am wasted space occupying time, waiting for days to go by counting the clouds until somehow, somewhere I find the opportunity to change my life. Now though I sit depressed I and morn what life could be instead of facing what life is already.

It saddens me deeply to still be sat here, same city, same mood year after year after year complaining about the same problems. I did the washing today and I was like, why the fuck I am wasting my time ironing someone else’s clothes when someone could and should be doing it for me. Cleaning, housekeeping shouldn’t be left to me, I suck at it and I also think it’s a waste of time, like I could have been walking around Paris croissant in hand, but no here I am ironing. How pathetic. It’s the mundane mediocre tasks of life that challenge me and remind me of how truly basic my life currently is…

Mentally I’m living in an estate home in Italy regularly visiting my New York and Paris penthouse apartments, with live in housekeeping, infinite spending, chauffers and mass praise. In my mind life is exciting, luxurious, everchanging and infinitely fulfilling. I know to some it may all feel like a romantic dream, but to me its real. Its real life and how my real life should be. It feels real, the romantic European aristocratic dream yet I am so far from it. No lineage, no local contact, no friends, no family money, nothing just me. A lone single soul in a city that welcomes me nothing of interest and a yearly depression of self-loathing and dreaming. Oh, how I disconnect from my life, the city of souls, maybe just lost souls.