not a hipster anymore.
A curious spider once found a playground in the human world. Not knowing the consequences that awaited him in the jungle that was a young girl’s home. A smooth, pinkish-white mass gazed at him with yearning, and so he crawled with excitement to better understand this mountainous figure. With time and energy, he reached his battlefield and climbed the mass that was a baby girl’s leg. Upon seeimg the black creature, she smiled with delight, as the little beast had become a potential playmate. Giggling, she stroked the little thing, awaiting all her new adventures. Smiling at the sound of her toddler laughing, her mother came over to join in on the pleasure. But instead, her smiles became screeches, and with one swat, the little spider went flying through the air, soon to meet the end of his fate with the collapse of hard-covered literature. And the young girl cried, because within her naivety she knew the creature would have done no harm, for he too simply wanted a playmate. But her mother swept her up into arms, caressing her hair, not understanding the muffled sobs of her young daughter. Its alright baby, its dead now.
Once I met a child who smiled and laughed, exuding innocence within an innocent frame. And so I watched in astonishment as she grew older in a cocoon of compassion only to realize that the only person she would ever love was herself. And so I cried, because within the innocence was a beauty that I craved to understand, the longing she desired to depend only upon the weaknesses of her own body, growing more and more into a child with each passing day only to realize, as the angels of the death wished her welcome, that at the edge of the bed were no feet, were no tears, were no blessings, to wish her adieu. Because her cocoon of compassion had passed away and all she had left was the salt on her wrinkled face.
Contentment.
I went on a run today, the first serious run I’ve been on in about a month. It didn’t come naturally and the only reason I was able to make it to the 5 mile mark was because within my mind I kept a running dialogue; a dialogue from body to soul. Nothing ran through my mind except for the sweet words that gave me confidence in myself and my ability to succeed. And I realized that this is all life is, a constant conversation between the physical and mental entities that create a human being.
Sadness has been creeping up on me once again, regardless of the freedom I was sure would resolve everything. I’ve realized that nobody can escape their past, in order to survive fully we have to embrace it. But it takes time. We all need time.
But from our first breath we are not independent. We are connected to so many different people that there is no way anyone can completely live for themselves. But that isn’t a bad thing: we need people to care, we need to feel loved. It is why marriage is so revered and why we are so distraught when it fails. It is why we have children, so we can give love and care, and so we can one day receive that compassion in return. It is why the loneliest of people are most often the saddest.
But sometimes that isn’t enough. Sometimes we need more, something different than what is available on this meager earth. Is that why we turn to God? Possibly. We also turn to other things: alcohol, wealth, drugs. But its never truly fulfilling is it? Maybe it isn’t meant to be.
So often do people hide behind an unrealistic reality, often to the detriment of themselves and perhaps those around them. And so we judge, because it is so much easier to create a life within the confinements of our imaginations than to try to understand what actually goes on beyond the forefront of these lonely facades. It makes us better.
But we’re not better. Regardless of race, gender, class, appearance, weight, or wealth no one is better. And yet we choose to create hierarchies because it keeps our society moving forward, it keeps people craving for what they are without. So we let it exist, and we continue to judge. Because it is easier to believe that we have a right to look down upon what we don’t understand than view the earth as 7 million equals. That is what we know and it is simple.
But it is not being at the top of the hierarchy that yields contentment, nor is it these materialistic identities our society has become consumed with. And it isn’t the drinking binges so many students turn to for fun or the fleeting euphoria that comes from the approval of someone we admire. It is something I haven’t yet figured out. Perhaps that’s just it.
I went on a run today for the first time in a month. And as I pushed one leg in front of the other against the will of my body, I realized that this is all life is: a dialogue. So make it good. Make it sweet. And perhaps one day we will all realize that the only place to find contentment is from within.
- This is a beautiful song.
Sometimes I wonder how such beauty can escape from our meager bodies,
while we still adamantly deny the ability of our race to amount to anything
but a disgusting mess
of disease
and destruction.
- Once I knew a boy,
I thought I was in love
only to realize how young I never knew I was
Do you have faith in humanity?
- Young, innocent children
will grow up one day.
Look at yourself child,
because you will always be too young and naive
to fully understand this world.
- She had always been a beautiful girl
who could never get past the person
she couldn’t amount to
because these pressures are unrelenting
come on skinny love,
be my
release to this
torturous beauty.
- Judging and scared,
people help the people.
Release yourself to this beauty
that doesn’t exist
Because you are a simple child
and I am a simple child
Together we can grow old and chase our dreams
because right now
we are young.
I remember that craving,
that used to be me.
It was beautiful, the words that spilled from my mind into my fingers.
We have become the slaves of technology.
I live in a society that encompasses my dreams, hiding them in an unrealistic reality.
I have a ring on my finger that isn’t mine.
Are we ever independent or just animals craving acceptance?
The most creative of artists were the most depressed.
Here’s a secret:
I went to the hospital once.
Weak and crying, I knew I didn’t belong.
Its coming back, hidden by a pill that keeps me from screaming.
I want more than this and I am so incredibly tired.
