So Many Buttons To Press

We no longer wonder.
We simply type and click and search.
I miss the
mystique. I miss the curiosity. I miss the walls put up. Not knowing.
The teenager
wanted to know it all. It turns out, all is way overrated.
Nothing is subtle
anymore. Everything is bold and big and bigger and bright and boxed-in. We
consume this all-you-can-eat buffet and never consider that most of it happens
to be free.
I find myself
swimming longer into deeper waters full of the endless everything. A song links
to a movie leading to a book sending me to a personality showing me some kind
of other story. I’m so curious and can’t get enough of this creative onslaught.
I keep moving my arms and legs yet know I’m exhausted. I know I’m far from
land.
It’s a strange
world we live in. So hard to keep up. So easy to connect. So difficult to keep
up with the connections.
The likes and the
comments and the posts and the replies. Seems I used to live a lot more when I
didn’t have so many buttons to press to prove I’m alive.
A face in a box
with words that should mean something feels as real as a cereal commercial. The
noise in the background never stops, with little girls and soundtracks and the
piping information all stuck with the traffic jam of words in my mind.  
Maybe somewhere
down the road I’ll shut it off. I’m not allowed to right now, so I open up the
floodgates and feel myself holding my breath deep underwater.
Breathless.
Knowing so much that I don’t want to know. Looking around places I didn’t know
I was even interested in. Learning and loving and longing and realizing that
all this is making me a bit crazy.
That simplicity of
listening to a song playing on the radio on a little portable box powered by
batteries while working on clearing a lot on a North Carolina mountaintop . . .
man I miss that. I miss that curiosity. I miss that not-knowing.
I miss that world
where everything isn’t suddenly there. I miss the days when you couldn’t seek
and find anything. You couldn’t simply think and do. You couldn’t just speak
and be heard.
Ten million voices
speaking mean very few get heard. Truly heard.
And I’m not
talking about the voices out there talking. No.
I’m talking about
the voices in my head. So many. Always more. And yet.

Tomorrow there
will be more, wading in these thick waters already so full.

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