prose poem c:

Like a mouse running on a wheel, you don’t know why you’re not getting anywhere. You run harder and faster; it gets maniacal. Every so often you get depressed and fed up, so you take a break, a breather; you stop running and rest for a while. You guess that that’s the way it is, you’re at the epoch in history that features a division of labor in society. Everyone has something to offer, you’re taught. And so you have to take care of yourself and your family, and your community too if you can. I guess no one will do it for you; but the support, the social welfare, should be strong. I guess it’s already there to some extent; I’m not sure why I keep thinking there’s no real societal help for people who are poor and/or troubled, in life. I guess some of the imagery and side-talk can get a bit deceiving; it’s not like there’s no help for people in society, right? | It’s the principle of self sufficiency and independence which is a bit difficult, to say the least. As long as that is the general principle in society, the general idea, then there will be certain people who will struggle. It’s actually one of the hardest things to do for many people, the independence thing, and yet it seems to be the general rule, the overall expectation.