Blank and sorrowful, one finds themselves prompting their friends for joyful memories
they have long since forgotten. Like clockwork,
they know better than the questioning individual
retrieving memories as if they were shared yesterday.
Almost as if they are AI in the flesh,
a disturbing thought to say the least.
Has one’s own life become so faint as to not recall how to experience joy?
Is the routine spiral constantly starting over with each new inconvenience?
One can only ponder for so long
before developing into a state of an existential crisis,
at the expense of a much desired slumber.
Perhaps excitement was just imagined after all.
