Please fuck with my head. C’mon, tell me I’m lame and retarded. Make me doubt myself and go look in the mirror wondering just who the hell I am. Play with my head. I dare you.

Here we go.

Personal motivations are indifferent to collective choices. Freedom rules in a comedic melancholy juxtaposed against the state and the rule, where the game of the name is the interpretation of the name itself.

Make your own reality is a big no-no. Oh no, don’t go there. But yes, please go there. Just don’t tell anybody you went. That’s the trick. Yes, take me.

Okay. Got it.

I’m set. I know the rules now. I’m ready to become the person I always wanted to be. One problem: Me. I’m locked in. Trapped by the very person I want to be more of. Ironic. Detestable. Sneaky. Abundant undercurrents and shadowy tones of life are all mine now. Alone I sit.

Bore me. Give me a chance. Talk to me. Try to hear what I am saying. Disagree with me. Show all your emotional capabilities. Do it in front of your children. Don’t hold back. Teach how to be more of yourself, even if others disagree with the you that you are.

Freedom is not what we want. Freedom is who we are. The very act of reading this is indicative of a reader who is free. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you don’t.

C’mon. Who are you kidding? Tell me your secrets. Let yourself be in the equilibrium that is so detestable that you can’t take it any longer. A minute. Maybe two. That’s all you can take. Suddenly, thoughts of prison occur. Maybe that’s easier than dealing with everyday life. Should I go there? Should I dwell on that aspect of life? No. It’s not me.

Who am I? Why do I need to know that anyway? Oh hell. It’s not important. Life chose me just like it chose you. We were drafted. This is a war. The war of life. It’s a struggle. Don’t pretend it isn’t. Everyone toils with it. If you’re rich you fear becoming poor. If you’re poor, you dream of becoming rich. But then you think, then what? What’s left to do? Do I have a calling? Am I happy? Who loves me? Have I loved enough? How much does it take to love? Nothing? Something? A little bit? How much is enough?

More questions? No. I can’t take it any longer. More questions means more answers. Every day starts out the same – with answers to questions that are really never asked. Meaningless thoughts. Worries for nothing. The human mind wasted again on things that don’t matter.

Who calls the shots? Who’s in charge? Where is everyone? Why do they fade away? Why don’t they just go? They stay. They appear from time to time and then leave us with thoughts – more answers to questions that no longer exist.

Where do I get off this trip easily? Is there an easy way out? No. One day I will wind up garnering a small mention somewhere, read by people who never knew me who are in a rush to go places they don’t fully understand why they are going there in the first place. Confusion is a state of life. Not knowing is a referendum on our own fragile connection with the infinite. Fearlessness of limitations is the first stepping stone to bliss.

Let go. Just let go. You will go where others have also gone. Fearlessly. Laughing. Mocking fate. Remembering every boring moment that led to the life that is … was.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 23rd, 2008 at 11:25 and is filed under Free Speech. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.