Life, or something close to it.

I am the modern man. Cradled in the lap of luxury, I lead my life in blissful ignorance. My wandering spirit is blinded by my monetary pursuits and I am willing to accept such blasphemies, for I am not a nomad. My spirit can be set free, to roam the wilderness in search for unanswered questions, after my body decays. I am plump, fat, and indulgent. I am an image of today's acceptable gluttony. I worry, not whether my next meal will be but rather what my next meal will be. I have a delicate palate and my body doesn’t know how to digest the common garbage. I am insatiable. I want a better phone, a better car, a better of everything I can think of. I think that's not too much to ask. I do not care if the world is burning outside, when I’m inside I want the weather to suit my needs. Desire may be the cause of all human sorrow, but the fulfillment of desires is the cause of most human happiness. And its suits me well that most of my desires can be bought. I do not wish to see the reason behind spending billions of dollars on big fat machines. Technology is not for the pursuit of scientific knowledge, it is to make my life easier. I do not care how a phone works, all I care is if it’s the latest model and can I afford it. I have judged my dreams to be an irrational proposition and my slavery prudent. I have rendered myself impervious to the temptations of freedom. I accept the cycle of mediocrity. It offers me the security of regular income. And when someone says, why you don’t try for a better job, the first thought that comes to my mind is: better salary. A better job doesn’t entail an escape from the dreary routine that I follow, a better job means I do what I always do but I get paid more to do it, so I can buy that car that always teases me so. My society equates pecuniary abundance with greatness and I am in complete agreement. If I want the things civilization offers, I should be willing to follow its rules. I am content with the way I live. Though my questioning soul says otherwise, it always feels that either I’m too young or too old to be chasing transcendent illusions. My soft and well lotioned hands and my sun screened skin need not face the undeserved punishments of nature. Even now when questions scudder through my unforgiving mind, I have the means to tame it so I can follow the secure circle of society. And though I have allowed myself to get lost this crowd of everyday life and though I have strained my freedom by my own choice and though I push myself away from escape every chance I get, no one seems to think I'm crazy. I figure that's because everywhere I look around people are doing the same. I'm not hedonistic or bohemian. I've compromised my lofty goals for mediocre aspirations to save myself from the possibilities of sordid outcomes. I am normal. I am the modern man.