When I am not thinking about monsters who fornicate with corn fields or the sexual escapades of cookie devouring puppets my mind drifts to pointless shit that probably any normal person thinks about. I hate temporarily succumbing to reality. I fucking hate it.
We meekly project ourselves into the world.
We surround the outside of us with what the inside thinks it feels, what the interior of our mind would look like if we could decorate it. We represent our thoughts the only way we know how, by owning shit.
We become possessed of our possessions. I become everything I can afford.
We are all guilty of caring about the wrong things, motivated by the wrong desires.
We want what we are trained to want.
We do not end up wanting what we are born wanting.
We are born wanting nothing more than love. We crave smiles and laughter. We develop a sense of hope. We want the safety and comfort of the familiar. Everything should be held close.
As children we want more of love than anything.
As children we want everything to be silly and surprising.
Everything touched with wonder.
The more we think we learn about life, the more that we steal our own hope and happiness from ourselves. Every day feels like another beating. We do not need to learn the same lessons over and over again, but we receive them regardless.
We learn to expect pain.
We learn that life hurts.
Life will continue to hurt.
We get the fucking point.
Now, I want to go back to not knowing, to be gratefully subjected to wonder and discover the world all over again.
I always knew what was coming and I have figured nothing out.
We just stop trying to find the joy in all of this.
We find escape, we pursue forgetting. We use phones, computers, television, alcohol, drugs and people.
Other people try to make us ashamed of who we are.
Your preferences are the subject of ridicule for others.
To others, and eventually to ourselves, our preferences are our identities.
Who we are becomes what we read, watch and listen to.
We do not read, watch and listen to ourselves. We never become ourselves.
Children love to pretend, to imagine.
As adults we spend our lives watching other adults pretend and make believe.
We pay them for it.
Did we forget how to pretend or are we just too afraid as adults of how we will look to other people if we play cops and robbers, or astronaut, or fighter pilot if a camera isn't rolling.
We are afraid of looking foolish, being embarrassed. We think we are so clever.
How smart can you feel when the birds always know it's raining before you do? They don't have any fucking weatherman, no one is telling it to them beforehand, it's just a matter of proximity.
That is the distance between you knowing something and being completely fucking oblivious. A raindrop on a birds pecker.
I am not afraid. My mind is a universe. It invents fucking galaxies. I spend a lot of my time appearing to be a complete idiot to people who I think are complete fucking morons. Honestly, who believes I should give a solitary fuck what anyone in the universe would think about me.
Even now, I should be wearing a towel or a sheet as a cape, because it looks super fucking rad.
Even now, I should be wearing a holster with cap guns and turning my desk at work into a bad ass fort that I must defend at all costs.
In a bad ass fort there are no bullshit rules or bills or responsibility.
The sign on the fort will read "No Assholes Allowed!" Any person, big or small, will not come into your fort to be an asshole about being in a fort. You enter a fort ready and willing to have fun. Assholes walk on by forts because they're assholes.
As a child, I never dreamt that I would someday become a person who would yell "I hope someone buttfucks your corpse," to another motorist. Yet here I am.
It is the rest of the world that ruins everything. It is the world around me that has turned me into this person who hates being so perpetually annoyed to the point I would even think to yell that sentence.
Everyone thinks everyone else is an asshole.
We all think we are right about that.
Only one of us can be right.
One.
Hi.
How's it goin'? I don't like your chances.
This is my fort.
Keep walkin' asshole.
Hellwagon.
