Such peculiarities plague me and yet I thrive on their sweetness as it drips from my delusion. I have a kind of power that can only exist to a narcissist. I am almighty, therefore everything is my fault.
You have to understand though. It is a terribly delicate skill, being able to kill off characters. Well actually, allow me to rephrase that. It is difficult to properly kill off a character. Any numbskull with a pen and too much leftover angst could commit literary murder, but to glorify the particular victim’s demise in a painfully elegant scream of desperation, followed by the resounding yalp of purpose, well that is something all to itself.
I’ve run it through in my head so many times, yet I hesitate to further dive in that direction. I may have made a terrible mistake. I may be making the most wonderful mistakes that lead to nirvana, or at least a girlfriend. I may be just so petrified of all these lies I’ve made myself to be, that the very thought of marching forward into my own existence seems a dark and dangerous proposition. Maybe I’m not as brave as I once thought myself to be. Maybe I was born on a different planet where these sort of problems don’t even exist. Maybe my species only focuses on playing funk music and places every other matter as insignificant.
I don’t imagine that I will ever know the answer. As I look out on my tiny metropolis that is now lightly covered in melting snow and salt stained streets, I find that I have nearly no time left. Geologically of course, but time is still pressing on biological matters. The main difference seems to be that a rock doesn’t need to eat but if I don’t have caffeine to replace all that nicotine, my whining will only grow less carefully crafted in an attempt to remove all veils holding up the disguise. In reality, I just want things to seem bad. Maybe looking for pity from others, or perhaps just in myself. Maybe because I want the story of this self made hero of mine to seem even more grand once you know from where he came.
Is any of this important? I imagine not. I just can’t quite understand being an adult yet, despite all my talk in the other direction. Talks of academies and demo reels are what stand before me now. The only crave I have is for things beyond that but I have to earn such standing. The terrible job I’ve been doing since then is only a reflection on the few child like behaviors that I have yet shed, although it would be very important that I do so. This should not suggest I don’t plan on holding on to boyhood values, just not the ones that do little to nothing towards progress.
It’s important to remember that children are much more progressive than any adult could ever be. They live in a world of learning. The younger they are, the more they will crave knowledge that catches their fancy. We all had something that vastly interested our budding young mind but this does not have do with schooling at all. The school system in the civilized western empire is rotting and as the maggots feed on the last remains, another generation has no choice but to be accused of stupidity. Each passing generation seems to have less and less of a chance, and somehow it is their fault. It was and is our fault somehow.
I must say, no generation has been able to craft lies quite like the Boomers. Sucking the teat of the Greatest Generation, they have quite possibly squandered the entire planet away, let alone economies and debt and starvation and that lot of issues. But blaming others will get me nowhere. Or rather, not where I would like to go.
Then again, I’m not really sure where I’d like to go. I have thought about things and have only been able to decide on about a half dozen, all of which seem too grand and too extraordinary for a person to seriously consider themselves doing as we inch away from the dawn of the 21st century. We have hardly even begun this here millennium.
Strange how we are able to measure time, isn’t it? It doesn’t exist like this everywhere and yet here we are, defining our entire existence around this benchmark. Four years have come and gone and I’d spent a solid three of them chasing ghosts. I’m looking to get out and away and above all of this, but that will seem much like a lie when I talk about how much I will miss it. I have spent my time and gotten something from it. I can only see what it is after it has gone though.
Phil didn’t see his shadow, which means an early spring. Symbolically, that has to be one of them most idiotic human practices. Symbolically, spring means it’s time for bold action as cool, crisp air fills my lungs and brew in my belly. Symbolically, all of this means nothing, as I warned it would. My flesh grows weary but any mind that at least find humor in all of this, can reach me at communicate such grievances. Until then, I bid you sweet dream and fare the well.