Bills

The table in the other room is illuminated by a single hanging light. I keep it dark so I don't have to stare at the pile of bills waiting to take a piece of me. Somewhere in that pile of corporate paper lies my life, but I couldn't tell you how to find it. I hired someone to do that for me, once, but now that's just another bill. Ironic.

Envelopes and slips of color have an interesting way of stealing your life. The lifelessness of the sheets with ink spread about by a computer can trap you inside a box of pressure and doubt. We answer to something that has no life, no breath, no self. It raises anger and other unfortunate emotions that trap us even further in a spiral of self destruction. Anger feeds desire for an escape, desire for an escape feeds purchase, purchase feeds bills, bills feed anger. And on and on and on...

Money is the root of all kinds of evil. It's sad. Money can only buy brief periods of time where we are slightly more happy, before ultimately taking back whatever joy it brought and replacing it with strife. Although, to be fair, money provide means of communication otherwise unattainable, which is perhaps its best use.

Another bills piles atop Mt. Neverrest. An endless climb up a path that only leads down. An endless business that keeps envelope opener companies afloat...These bills, a true version of mind control...And sadly, in some cases, soul control, which means utter sadness and destruction.

Getting the mail should never lead to resentment.