Writing is not cathartic, even though its feeling of release is present; it is not enlightening, however, it provokes critical thinking; it is not, above all, entertaining, nonetheless it transports you. I write in order to rationalize interiority, to catch emic experiences with a net. Everything, however, revolves and remains inside.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Alter Ego I
Who told you that I once had potential and lost it all?
Do you think I like feeling worthless, and if I did would it make it better for you and your logic?
People get what they deserve, according to lucky cookie over here.
Attitude in life is everything, because you've had a rough life too
And could have turned so much worse
And didn’t because you had friends who loved you. Because you coped.
Not even dreaming disgrace
would make you come close to
Understanding what a rough life is.
You wanna experience the world? You think you know shit? You know nothing. The fact that you can choose sets you apart, but that's the way it’s been laid out for you. Go home, stay in shittyville. Don’t take that plane, you’ll never get pain no matter how much you get to know.
You think reality is pain?
Try to be happy.
Peaceful, just, coherent with yourself.
But oh no. Mister middle America thinks he hasn’t experienced enough in life, he wants to know what the real world’s like. Drama is the way of little big boy over here.
Well, that’s great, sugar, let’s all hope we can grow up to be enlightened like you.
Go puke somewhere and be a jerk about it.
It’s liberating to risk your life on purpose.
Because at the end of the day, you’re not living.
You are watching, watching, watching.
You are making me sick.
One day, one day
I’ll kill some of you and I’ll cry about it,
Because I will have lost the thing I had left
For the simple pleasure of doing away with nothing.
- ► 2007 (23)