Today, I watched my classmates. I didn't see them as usual, I watched. Emotion, passion, impulse, instinct, call it what you want: something just keeps your mind at work. I like to think of growing up as repetitive rushes of blood to the head. Not only anger, I mean everything from talking to loving to bowling, simply any form of pointlessness. Then the rushes recede and you think you've got it all sussed out. Your internal skin coagulates, you're carved into Siberian conifer and you've grown up.
Today, I watched my classmates; and saw flies. Try staring at people blankly, and you'll see that when you look into their eyes, it won't be a community but a colony. Blink. Pause. Blink again. Why aren't we able to blink normally when we want to know how often we blink when we're normal? People are with the rat in the cage. We like looking at the sea because we want to forget those eyes that nail us down. We want to wipe the slate clean, but how can we avoid that divorce rate is at 50% because of passion? We love: we're concrete wooden carvings growing every time we look back.
I'd like to tell that thirteen year-old brat that he's going to regret his every step. "Just a bit of hindsight kid". It's not that wisening ever had a point, it's that it makes us happier. So when that kid'll tell me that I'm a nutter, I'll still be the wiser one of us; and in some ironic way, he reminds me that I'm just another fly in the human colony, passionate and helpless.
Today, I watched my classmates; and saw flies. Try staring at people blankly, and you'll see that when you look into their eyes, it won't be a community but a colony. Blink. Pause. Blink again. Why aren't we able to blink normally when we want to know how often we blink when we're normal? People are with the rat in the cage. We like looking at the sea because we want to forget those eyes that nail us down. We want to wipe the slate clean, but how can we avoid that divorce rate is at 50% because of passion? We love: we're concrete wooden carvings growing every time we look back.
I'd like to tell that thirteen year-old brat that he's going to regret his every step. "Just a bit of hindsight kid". It's not that wisening ever had a point, it's that it makes us happier. So when that kid'll tell me that I'm a nutter, I'll still be the wiser one of us; and in some ironic way, he reminds me that I'm just another fly in the human colony, passionate and helpless.
