I look back on my childhood with the shadow of a long and run down cynical juvenile. I can’t seem to discard the sentiment that those years may have been the best years of my life. So many things used to be accepted without the need of explanations because they never used to alter in my mind to the conformities of logic and reasoning. I can only look back now lost to time, holding feelings of nostalgia because of the bitter exposure I have been victimized to as I aged. All I see now are the harrowed shells of people shuffling through the life they have come to know. 

so many things lost now ..

It’s the wise ones who often suffer the most because often those are the ones who are engrossed within reality. Real agony, sealed fantasy, reveal gravity because if you only knew what really happened in this world you’d realize we ain’t have reason to be high. My respect towards the wise who’s cup is still full of hope and who still find courage, even after perpetual disappointment, to be hopeful. Because I, for one, am tired of being too aware. Too evocative. Too knowing. They say ignorance is bliss, and I used to think it was bs, until I touched lips with the Devil and felt his kiss. Because upon his lips I tasted the lips of everyone who’s ever kissed him, and let me tell you, after that kiss they never dissed him, but dissed God, and never missed Him. Sometimes, I wish I was one of them.. because when the blind lead the blind, at least they’re in a peace of mind within their confined line. Why does it matter if they’re sightless? It doesn’t imply that they’re visionless, and if you have vision who are people to say you’re decisions are any less of value than theirs? 

Sometimes, I wish I were oblivious. Because at times, the obvious to me, is what others perceive as intangible. And when you’re aware of how alone you really are in this world, it’s frightening. Some would say it’s enlightening so why does it feel like the sun’s out but I suddenly was struck with lightening? The worst events are the ones you don’t expect. 

Have you ever thought about our purpose? If our lives are really worth it? How the definition of living is something that’s not definite, but a concept that we’ve adapted to? How if everything was meant to be, that means we were meant to find attraction in the things we’re attracted to? How if fate and predestination were truly how our lives were destined, we’re just sticks of meat existing on a wet sphere, and we’re not really here to discover anything.

We are born into this world just to get set back to dust, and everything else we’re told that challenges that reality, is just a theory.

Knowing too much can be a bad thing, because the truth is what you believe, and when the truth is that nothing matters, what’s left to believe in?