I wake up and I wonder: Where is the love? It must have stayed in my dream. It was warm there and sunny. Peaceful. I rub my eyes, but I don’t want to leave.
I hear the city noise and I wonder: Where is the love? What’s with the honking and yelling, what does everyone mean? Maybe, they’re looking for love. Lost, lost just as I am, and that’s why they’re mean.
I walk outside and I wonder: Where is the love? The smile for the stranger, the look at the crossroads, the feeling of being seen. The birds laugh at us. They know each other. They soar over our heads, their song sounds serene.
I hear people talk and I wonder: Where is the love? Where is the selfless inquiry, the friend unconcerned with themselves, the, “no, really, how have you been?” The air keeps moving, but the words don’t move us. Not enough silence between them. Not enough space for them to break the screen.
I sit down and I wonder: Where is the love? When did humans at work become such a chilling scene? The office is a factory, but we’re not robots. There’s no reason for the temperature to freezing.
I play some music and I wonder: Where is the love? Respect for the artist, love for the human, a human who burst at the seams. Maybe, it’s just too painful to remember. Too overwhelming to imagine. Easier to bury it underneath.
I try to meet a friend and I wonder: Where is the love? All this talk of being together, but when do we find the time to be? “Co-exist,” they say. But then we’re too busy to sit next to each other and hear a fellow human breathe.
I grab lunch and I wonder: Where is the love? Why is it weird to sit with a stranger but normal to leave your plate for one to clean? Food providers gift space for unhand interactions, but cheap solo meals are not the way it’s always been.
I go online and I wonder: Where is the love? Angry comments fired, cannons in a war whose casualties we’ll never see. Where’s the thought before lighting the fuse? Compassion, consideration, and decency? We needn’t face the victims’ hurt, but their wounds — like ours — are still the kind that bleeds.Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free
I walk alone and I wonder: Where is the love? Why did that song lie to me? How do I set one foot in front of the other, not knowing which step lands and which one fails? Is there even a way to turn broken promises back into a dream?
I look outside and I wonder: Where is the love? Did it fade into the night sky, like a drop of water in the sea? If the stars shine bright in a dark place, why can’t we do the same? How do we spread this light we’re meant to be?
I go to sleep and I wonder: Where is the love? If I find it tomorrow, how can I save this feeling I want to keep? Answers only lead to more questions, which one is worth chasing? I drift off knowing I know little, but I do know it all starts with me.
Previously published on Psiloveyou.xyz.
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