Oh how easy it is to perfect ourselves on paper. The simplicity of building a wall of words that appear to be complex, so we can hide the fact that were insecure and dull, just like the rest. We use our vocabulary to portray ourselves as pseudo intellectuals, internally verbalizing to ourselves that since we think we can comprehend more than our neighbors, that they dont deserve the time of day. We dont fully acknowledge their existence, but insist that our own have been underestimated and ignored by all. We go insane in this charade of being aware, we forget that sometimes a tree really is just a tree. We forget that sometimes a human is just a human, and not a super entity. We tend to pride ourselves in being unique individuals, but its the pride itself, that boils us all at the same temperature, rapidizing the movement of all particles stored in our matter. I can spend as much time as i desire critiquing my own criticism towards all of you, especially in my own notebooks that i pay capitalistic bankers to let me store my supposed private thoughts in. People rarely write, or type, or even imagine something unless they really wanted someone else to witness their vision, even if only subconsciously, alternative motives of feeling approved, or of disproving your happiness with a feather and some ink always occur. I should only speak for myself, but i am a breed, and you are all part of one too. Everybody in my pack has no dues to pay, and always hold the position of a mythological god in my writings, despite the wretched demons we all are in reality. Any set amount of time spent reflecting upon the people like me, ends in satisfaction. I love you all.
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 08:13:06 +0000
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