False Serenity

I've gotten used to the isolation. I've become comfortable - no, maybe accustomed - to shallow, fleeting relationships with people. I've found ways to live alone.

Or so I thought earlier today. My mood has steadily declined over the past few days and every waking hour has been spent perusing bicycle websites and reviews. I wish I was healthy again, continue riding 250 Km a week, sometimes with the club, sometimes on my own.

It seems that it is never a case of being independent but rather becoming dependent on different things. When you don't have enough of what you love, every little thing gains an exaggerated importance. The smallest inconvenience that might have been trivial before now transforms into a magnified thorn in one's sight.

When will this all end? All the fears and anxieties kept at the back of my head. Of status, of performance, the want of love and respect, the want to love, the want of solidarity.

When?