Logging Off

So I’ve shelved my reading of A Tale of Two Cities for another day. It just wasn’t gripping me like I thought it would, so now I’m going on a different adventure, one called IT. The Stephen King doorstopper of a book was one that I picked up a while ago but put off reading for a long time. I think it’s now time to take the plunge into the 1100+ page epic story. IT is one of those stories that completely enveloped me as soon as I picked it up. As daunting a task as reading this book is, I feel a sense of necessity when reading IT. It’s a strange book to read while taking on this never-ending challenge, as I feel the same guttural regret when I read this book as I do when I start another dreaded day of no technology. It’s not a regret like “I forgot to go to the store today” or “I should’ve talked to that cute girl”. It’s more like the regret you feel when quitting an addicting substance or stop seeing that toxic girlfriend. It’s a yearning that never goes away for that thing that felt so necessary to you. I’m currently 86 pages into It, which feels poetically similar to the stage I’m at in my no technology journey.

It feels as though I’m lost at sea with no hope in sight. No boats, no land. And my legs are getting tired. But for some reason I can’t quite explain, it feels as though there’s a ship just out of sight, so close I can smell its smokestacks pumping toxic fumes into the air, or hear the engine puttering along, just loud enough to muffle my cries. While holding out hope feels exhausting and never-ending, it is also necessary. Hope is a feeling that few people truly feel in today’s age. With all that’s going on in the world, it feels pointless. Does that ship really lay just out of sight, or am I being delusional?

Life is a constant swirl of ups and downs, lefts and rights, fronts and backs. No two roads lead the same way, even though many people end up at the same destination. Hopelessness. It’s a destination we all dread arriving at, but one we all end up at one way or another. When we reach this Hopelessness Avenue, it almost feels like home. Feels like maybe it’s where we’ve been heading this whole time and just didn’t know it. The truth though (although it’s hard to notice while we’re there) is that this Hopelessness Avenue is only a detour. A destination that sometimes feels like a living and breathing purgatory. We’re never meant to stay though, just stop in and say hi. Hope is just up the hill, if we just stop and listen. You can hear it if you’re really quiet, that boat that felt ever so far away. It’s just up the hill, just over the horizon. You just have to listen.