I have dreams of flight, but I’m not floating
The ground is approaching awfully quick
So I wake up screaming for you to catch me
That’s what I start every day off with
I may talk shit, but there ain’t much else to do in this prison cell
And lucky for me no one listens well…especially when I dis myself
I’ll fly away on a pig when my living hell freezes over
And since I’m used to the cold I’ll be able to rest my head on Jesus’ shoulder
I miss you. I love you. And I wish everything would just work out but it won’t.
I have two friends in my town, one of which probably isn’t speaking to me anymore. Everyone else is just a vapid lying manipulative cunt. Too bad I can see right through it. I’ve always been able to do that. You wouldn’t think I’m intuitive but I am. I see through the lies and straight to your dark intentions. Well fuck you all. I’m miserably lonely but being around people is worse. I sleep in the fetal position at night clutching a goddamn teddy bear like a life line but this technique doesn’t work as well at 20 as it did at 5.
Fuck reality, fuck life, fuck this rat race pile of bullshit we call ‘life’, this isn’t living, this is dying. Minimum wage day in and day out, selling your soul piece by piece to the government that owns you, what to wear that’s appropriate, what to say to get the best response, who’s ass to kiss to make it ahead, two years of ‘general education’ that I already know and $8,000 down the drain. What an utterly pointless exercise in futility.
I’ve often wondered to myself if I’d be ok with sacrificing my intelligence for some social skills. I’m pretty goddamn smart, too smart for my own good in fact, my cynicism and capability to be extremely aware of our current state of shit as humanity as a whole are key players in my misery day in and day out. But then I get sick to my stomach that I even thought of it. Blissfully ignorant? How disgusting. Better to know the truth than to not, right? I can’t imagine living like that. Still-
I’m really goddamn fucking lonely.
I really fucking miss you.
I’m really fucking miserable.
I just want someone to talk to, to cuddle with, to be there. I’m terrible company for myself.
What the fuck did you do that for, making me get on Skype just so you could make me totally miserable. I fucking hate you so much sometimes.
Evie, I love you.
Life is fucking hard. For some, it’s harder than for others. But frankly that’s because those for whom life is easy don’t live. They don’t think, they don’t open their eyes, they don’t see any of the true beauty- or any of the true evil in the world.
If life is easy for you, that’s because you’re coasting through it along the surface with a silk veil over your eyes, never daring to remove that veil or fall through and see what lies underneath. You’re probably really satisfied with yourself, and think you’re “really really blessed”, and have vapid, superficial relationships with people you call friends, and are probably going to marry an equally vapid, superficial person who you’ll eventually divorce. And not once have you ever stopped to admire the painfully fleeting, awe-inspiring beauty of a dew drop on a flower in the dawn light, or listened, really listened with your whole mind, to the intense, emotional harmonies found in a piece of classical music, and you’ve probably never bothered to look inside yourself enough to realize what an utter piece of shit you are. You’ve never acknowledged that niggling feeling at the back of your mind that this ISN’T all there is, that there’s more to life than the silly, impermanent things you bother yourself with, that really, you’re a coward and a fool.
And then there are the people for whom life is difficult. They see the beauty in the world, they see the amazing things that we are capable of through art, and music, and simple pleasures, and love, but they also see the despicable, disgusting, useless idiocy shared by most of the human race, they see their own imperfections and because they can’t achieve the beauty found so easily in nature and in art, they despise themselves. They worry that they’ll never be able to make anything as beautiful, they worry that they’ll never be as beautiful, they worry that they won’t matter like those that they admire did. The concern themselves with the infinite, as opposed to the finite, the future and eternity, as opposed to the present, the emotional and true, as opposed to the superficial and lucre, and because they are so concerned with infinity, with the universe as a whole, with abstract, undefinable concepts, they have a hard time dealing with the cold, hard, finite reality in which they live.
And so we pump them full of pills and send them to shrinks and try to force them into the boxes in which we all sit so smugly. But if they escape, if they survive, if they grow strong like some crazy vine in the Amazon, choking off the trees around it, they choke the box and they choke the boxer and they grow out and up and above all of us, and become exactly those people we admire so much- the Beethovens, the Galileos, the Picassos of the world.
And that’s what I know you can do, Evie.
To those of you hiding behind your expensive silk veils, cautiously floating along the surface, terrified to look below, or worse, look inside: Live. The world you are in is both beautiful and terrible, and you only get once chance to experience it. So stop judging, start loving, stop destroying, start creating, stop taking, start giving, stop existing, start LIVING.
One, two, three hundred years from now, no one is going to care about how much you had in your bank account, whether your shoes were Gucci and your purse Vuitton, how much money that guy you’re dating was making, who that ugly kid in your class was in love with, how big your house was or how expensive your car. That is not “living”. We will care about what you create, what you discover, what you describe and what you share with the world.
And to those of you who see the world in all it’s beauty and all it’s terror, but who feel overwhelmed by it, who, now that they have looked inside themselves and out and unlocked Pandora’s box, feel as though they can never compete, can never be good enough, as if the destruction and sadness and cruelty in the world far outweighs the good, even if this is true- you can do it!
You can be a force of light, of beauty, of good, of truth- with every poem you write, everything you draw, every time you look in the mirror and like what you see, every small good deed you do, every person who’s day you brighten when you smile at them, you are making sure that things aren’t that bad, you are adding more beauty and truth and hope to the world, and you are NOT bad, you are beautiful, you are good, you are strong and you can do it. Don’t be afraid.
The world loves you, even if people don’t. They’re just afraid that you know something they don’t, and their ignorance scares them.
Yes of course! :) How are you? :)
I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. :) Who are you?
- I see people all the time who are all
- WAT IS THE BBC
- COMMUNISM AND NAZISM ARE THE SAME THING
- WE ATTACKED IRAQ TO KILL OSAMA BIN LADEN
- THE UNITED STATES IS THE MOST FREE AND EQUAL COUNTRY IN THE WORLD
- I WANT TO VISIT CZECHOSLOVAKIA
- WHO IS DAVID CAMERON
- I am so saddened by you
- how can you march through life
- only aware of he condition of your pants
- I can be watching Stephen Colbert or something
- and snorting my sorry ass off in laughter
- so grateful that I know something about history and politics
- and you’ll be all
- this is boring
- why do you watch this
- if you knew the difference between Iran and Iraq
- or could tell me the year D-Day happened
- maybe you’d come far enough out of you cocoon of indifference to understand a little something
oh snap! i love this, though i’d excuse teenagers because, well, i didn’t start caring till i was 20. heh.