Exasperating. Exasperating and infuriating, at times. That is all that I could possibly sum it up to.
I can not tell you how long I had fought and attempted to return to my home--especially after I had actually found it--and then all but suddenly the very same people that had brought my here some years ago were leaving. As simply as that. In fact, they're most probably in their metal tomb of a vehicle right now, fleeing from this putrid state of existence. If they are not, they will be soon. With them, my two younger brothers sit, dragged along with my niece—a rotting apple if ever one had fallen from more dead a tree.
The entire reason that I am in this place now is leaving me here like a piece of spent tissue. How should I feel? How, how, how should I react to all of this? I am struggling and I am fighting for a wisp of air and they’re complaining that they have to live with a two-year-old. Do you know, for as long as I have comprehended the concept and mayhap just a bit longer, I have fed myself on the dream that some day I would be attending a college and controlling my life for myself? What a pleasant clutch it is to have when one can announce with security in their thoughts that they will some day become some one worth noting.
Because when you are eight and you have already realized that your life is swiftly being encumbered along with the dredge of society? That is when things have become bad. Have become worse than bad. That is when a child must take control or they will lose all good that could be waiting for them. That is when a child sheds that layer of innocence which keeps us so healthily moist and warm in our pre-pubescence.
College is a tricky subject. It’s difficult. You will either float or you will undoubtedly sink. Most traffic the latter of the options.
I think that what upsets me the most is just how much people seem to take their wealth for granted. Not monetary wealth, no, though that may be the case with a few. If we all had a million dollars each, oh what would we spend that precious sum on? Everything and anything? or perhaps as a dragon with glittering ruby scales would, we shan’t take anything more than our own, hoarding our personal wares, unkind and ungiving.
Before a blinking screen, this age is rapidly speeding by. Time is no longer the sluggish morn to eve schedule that it was hundreds of years ago. We wake—if we do wake at all—and travel, travel until our energy is wasted. There is no set clock, only hundreds and hundreds of blinking screens. They call us the digital age. I am trapped in my own era, hooked on an era behind mine and maybe even before that. When they belch or they growl out some hideous remark, I can only cringe. When they pull a fist of condoms from their pockets, I can only shake my head.
I am no angel and I am far from superior but why? It is pleasure. Everything is pleasure. We have become a distinctive philosophy; Nihilism. Nothing is real, nothing is worth anything unless it is built up of matter. God is dead, heaven is only a reaction to the stimuli fear. The only thing worth knowing is where to touch your mate to make them blush, to make them squirm. Society is only about what we can keep, what is our own. Is that why we focus so much on our image? I’ve said something that before.
“I don’t like material things!” So I focus on my physical self, my mental self. Because even when I have long gone, the only thing that will ever take that away from me will be the children of the earth. Her sons and daughters in their lowest forms. Perhaps I will be reborn as the very maggot that is brought up in my rotting corpse. Perhaps as I am devoured by a bird or a rat, I will return as the sperm that will become their offspring.
Sperm do not have souls…
To be driven and countered, as cattle to fate. Are we here to be eaten or are we here to eat?
What of our spirit if we step just once too late? Are we here to find the rhythm or fall to the beat?
Eggs. We begin in cocoons of something wet and smelly. The moment we are free, no longer restrained, our fascination dwindles then becomes disgust. As we come closer to dying, we despise anything that might resemble our birth. Yet, we produce, we produce. In factories with dust-filled columns of sunlight spilling into our vision, we produce our daily ventures. We produce vaccines for God’s touch. Why do we busy ourselves? Is it because when we are bored, we have time to think and we are afraid of our own thoughts?
Is it so horrible to feed our brains? We only use ten. The rest starve while those ten get fat on what is unnecessary.
What do the other 90 do while we push them aside, like the young man who killed his fellow students?
There was a shooting on the UT campus today. I came into the bathroom to wash my face. I realized I looked sicker than I felt, then tied back my hair. A girl came rushing in with tears in her eyes. Disregarding school policy and with little intent to hide herself, she dialed a number onto her phone. Her sister was her primary concern. I don't know if she was okay. I left without a thought.
Question of the Day: Are you afraid of what others are capable of? Anything in particular?