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Sunday, 25 September 2011

Mediocre melancholy


Everything loses it's innocence. Everything. 
I want to be a child again.
I want my childhood back eternally.   
That little child?  That sister, that brother, 10 years time they'll know about drugs and suicide and murder and sex.
That child could be the next Charles Manson, or Mother Teresa.  They could be a social worker, or trafficking children for sex.  Injecting themselves with drugs or issuing drugs at a counter.  Or both.    The gamble of life.  And the gamble usually results in mind and soul numbing mediocrity, living in homes we can't pay for, jobs that we have no passion for, degrees that cost fifty billion dollars that we slave over only out of obligation, or a socially constructed title..and even then we may not use them.  Ugly habits, ugly minds, ugly houses, ugly jobs.  The hallowed Wheel of life.  Learning lessons too late, saying 'I love you' to the people who know you the best too late... finding the real meaning and purpose too late.  All these things I see all the time.  The things everyone sees, yet accepts.  What is wrong with me?  Why can't I just accept everything as it is and lead a complacent life?  "Hypersensitive, negative, sickly" yeah.. I hear these things in reference to me.  There are no realistic idealists.  Perfection is unrealistic.        
Today... I feel that life is too complex.
I should have been dropped in a vat of psychotropic drugs as a child.  

To me and to no one, to set the mood - howls for this unholy night which mirror the mood.

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