Quiet Seething in the 'Burbs

I feel like an ant or a lemming. I'm not sure which. I feel like part of the herd and desperately want to get out of it. I'm tired of belonging, but don't know anything different. And I'm tired of being different and not belonging.

Perhaps some of that is more acute for me because I'm thinking about springing into retirement (I have the means, I just don't have the plan). I'm sure that my gay perspective also bears on my angst. Believe me, no conformity is enforced as well as that of a self-identified aggrieved group of people. I'll not name any names, though.

This constant evaluation, measuring, totaling up takes a toll. I feel crispy at the end of the day, as in burned. I think the analysis is worse for being analyzed. How sweet to be in complete ignorance. Perhaps sweeter to embrace the ignorance and march triumphantly to a bad end. I don't know. I know that resisting the ignorance of bigotry, the ignorance of habit, the blinders of perspective doesn't guarantee a good end, either.

One of my friends, who is not gay, asked me once what I wanted most as a gay man. I told him the freedom to be left alone. I suspect that after certain basic needs are met, that might be what we all want, the autonomy to be ourselves, and to make our own stupid mistakes without having to share in the stupid mistakes of everyone else.