Sometimes I feel, well, FIRE sale – my life. Something happens.
“Well why don’t you just make a list of every horrible wrong that every one has ever done!?”
I have and I am. I’m in the 60’s.
Why don’t they see, every solution has been a bandaid; they don’t see, but sometimes I see, yet only fragments. I have these pieces that just don’t add up, they don’t fit into the narrative that everyone wants to believe, so they go unseen. Unexplained. Forcibly removed from entertaining an existence alongside the lies and lives of society by society.
There is something wrong; so wrong and it is war worthy. Either spread for so long or a natural part of the fabric of our society; so hard to tell.
Diverging : I think I see the macro and the micro, but what is it that’s in-between? I reckon it’s Life. I don’t think I’ve ever had one though. Which is one ingredient of this shit they intended to make. After so many tries you end up giving up, and the joke is that your resistance wasn’t even seen. You could have enjoyed the ride on the way down and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Why did they plant a weed of guilt in you as a child, why did they keep feeding it until it bloomed a flower that you thought was nice and necessary, but’s weeds strangled you whole. They fucked you. It’s that simple. Oh, you didn’t show it? Yeah that just meant some fuckers didn’t see the other fuckers, so fuckers kept fucky do da. But that’s the past, until of course it becomes the present again because it’ll happen again. But that’s “paranoid”. Until you show them a scatter-point graph displaying X fucks by Y years, and how “paranoid” travels a straight line through your life.
The facts do not care about your feelings.
I know, so why did I need to care about theirs?
Oh, you didn’t.
You said I did, they said I did.
Oh well, let’s move on, without your feelings, but with theirs.