Major or Minor

It is weird.  Deep down, I'm blue.  But only when I stop the hustle and bustle and pay attention.  When I don't stop, I'm actually doing just fine.  And on this weird level, I don't think the surface is any less important than the deep down.My bones are sad.  My muscles and skin and fat all all the stuff on top are doing pretty OK.  It is like an old record player (now you can tell I'm really old!).  Right now, I seem to be doing great at 78 and OK at 45, but 33 is a sad, minor piece.

It's like this song.  Deep down, there's angst. You know it's there.  But when you listen to it, nothing really seems bad.  

Maybe I'm holding onto angst out of habit.  I learned how to see the world in a minor key, but more and more, I'm living in major.  But when I slow down, minor is what I think about, even if I'm not living in minor anymore.  

Or maybe I really am sad, and that sadness doesn't have time to be expressed because I'm numbing myself out with the bustle of technology that is hiding the lack of connection.

Or maybe both of those are true.