Bookstore

         So I've found myself here again. Wandering aimlessly, searching. I often find myself searching, wandering. It's like those days of being a teenager all over again. Walking, walking, walking. I was always walking. I never quite knew where I was going. Where was I coming from? Where was I going? Well, here I am again. Still searching. What am I searching for? Love? No, that's too obvious. Meaning? Well, duh... isn't everybody? But no, something beyond that. Fulfillment? Yes, a sense of fulfillment. Of course that's it. There's always that emptiness deep down inside. But where does that come from? Am I just a fundamentally empty person? Some people seem perfectly happy. Are they, though? I've always wondered if it's just an act. Maybe it's just an act. All those people, they're really just the same, feeling the same emptiness, the same lacking, deep down inside, as I do. But... I often think that, but then when I actually talk to people they seem so... different. I don't know. Some people are just full of life. Some people are just full of energy. Some people are just full. That's it! Some people are just full! Of course! ... But then... what about me? Why can't I be full like that? Why does everything feel so... empty. Why am I so afraid? What am I so afraid of? Why is there this emptiness pulling at my heart? Where does it come from? ... Anyway, back to searching. What am I looking for? Oh, yes, fulfillment. That thing. Well, something tells me I'm kidding myself if I honestly think I'm going to find it in this pl—
         "Can I help you find anything?" The voice of the bookstore clerk snaps me out of my trance, and I realize I've been frantically pacing through the gardening section of the bookstore for the past half an hour. Can I help you find anything, he asks. The kid's kinda cute, maybe he could help me find that meaning I'm searching for. But I don't imagine he ever experiences the horrible fantastic journeys of the soul that transport me away from my surroundings virtually every moment of every day, nor could he possibly ever understand them, at least not in the first person kind of way that I do.
         "Oh, no, I'm all set, thank you," I reply, and walk out the door of the bookstore, mentally flying away with the bookstore clerk. Perhaps we fly to the moon, making sweet, sweet love all the way. Or perhaps we fight the sacred battle against the evil forces of market capitalism, nay, human greed as a whole, the same sad story of human history repeated over and over again throughout the history of time. Only this time we actually slay the beast. Just me and the boy who works at the bookstore. Yes, finally, one day, we will bring the beast down to his knees, that horrible dragon that is human evil manifest in the form of market capitalism. That same evil, greed, selfishness, that has plagued human civilization since the dawn of time, we will do it. Finally! We will be the ones! That boy has no sense of the heroism that is to come! He and I will make history together, and look beautiful while we do it.
         Of course, walking out the door, onto some nameless sidewalk superimposed somewhere in space (the details of the sidewalk aren't what matters. what matters is that it's a sidewalk, in general. always in general. [wait, i think too much in generalizations. maybe i need to think in specifics. look around you. what do you see?]), I realize that all I've done is walk out of the bookstore. But really, it's so much more than that. It's a flight of imagination, the very spiritual nature of which is the key element to defeating these forces of evil that hold us down every day.
         Wait. No. I'm standing on the sidewalk, and there's a man and a woman with three kids and a dog walking by, and I need to get out of the way. Remember? Take in the world around you. That's the only way you can stay sane. Take in the world around you and notice things. Keep your head out of the clouds. Oh wait, I was too busy pulling my head out of the clouds to remember the man and woman and certain number of children and dog that are about to bump into me. I walk out of the way avoiding eye contact. Besides, the boy at the bookstore probably wouldn't have been interested in slaying dragons with me anyway. He's not really worthy of it. I know I'm worth it more for some other person. All I know is that someday I will slay that dragon and somebody will be there with me.
         Oh, but I'm so afraid of dying alone. I don't want to die alone. I can't slay the dragon alone. I'm not sure I'd even want to. If it comes down to just me and that dragon, and I'm alone, will it even be worth it to slay that dragon? Oh, fucking world! Why are you leaving me alone like this! Don't you understand that it's when you leave me to suffer alone that the dragon sinks in his teeth?!— oh wait, no, dragons breathe fire. Umm... I need a different metaphor. Oh whatever, the point is that... wait, I forgot the point. Oh yeah, when you, you, you fucking world, leave me alone, that's when the dragon sinks in her teeth, or breathes his fire, or whatever. Market capitalism flourishes by replacing that emptiness deep down inside of you with all of its... things! Fucking commodities! All those horrible ads on TV, all they say is.... are you feeling empty deep down inside? well, if you buy our useless crap, you can temporarily forget that horrible nagging feeling inside your soul that says, I'm missing something! Fill me! Fill me! Goddamnit world! You screaming fucking radicals, all of you are so fucking radical and want to smash capitalism, you fucking punk rockers and hippies and all you other anarchists, but I'm so horribly empty! And the only thing that has an answer to fill the void is capitalism! Why the fuck do I spend so much time in bookstores? Because I'm empty! And you've left me here to dry up and wither away!
         Wait... no... it's not any one individual's fault. Anarchists didn't leave me here to wither away. It's the whole fucking system. The whole system leaves me empty to want things. So I can't give into it by wanting anything. I can't buy anything. Otherwise I'm just supporting the system that makes me feel so empty....
         ... but it would feel so good to buy something. Wait a minute, why am I so hard on myself? If I get pleasure from buying something... then I'll be a happier person. Only a happy person can fight the revolution. It's really hot out. Damn, I'm sweating. ... Ice cream! There's an ice cream shop down the street. Alright, I'll get ice cream. Besides, one of the ways to real spiritual enlightenment is through life's simple pleasures. So, I'll enjoy ice cream, simply. Through the simple enjoyment of ice cream I will become the fulfilled and empowered revolutionary that can finally slay the dragon of market capitalism. Ha! I am using capitalisms' tools against him! Revolutionary!
         The bell rings as I open the door to the ice cream place.
         "Hey, what can I get for you?" The girl behind the counter asks.
         I'll have a double extra-large anarchism-cream in a sustainable, democratic cone with queer liberation rainbow sprinkles and chocolate-not-judge-me-by-the-color-of-my-skin chips.
         "I'll have a small vanilla frozen yogurt in a wafer cone."