So I Was Just Thinkin'

FOR THOSE EASILY OFFENDED :if your easily offended chances are you easily offend others  routinely.

“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is anecessary ingredient in living.”-Doctor Sues. My imagination  happens to extend to the idea that everyoneon  earth can serve their purpose to eachother. However, who is it that decides how happy you become in reference tothese people  we call our neighbors, oursisters, our  brothers, our family? Peoplein my opinion pose a coy problem within my soul. They  are always interrupting  my thoughts. These humans  never quite can ascertain the meaning of justsimple disappearing for a certain amount of time. The idea  that we,  and therefore  I, can never be fully alone,  makes my  heart heavy in despair. 

Collage self portrait  (unfinished,  soon to  be)

Sure you could  assumeto  yourself that I am a simple case ofantisocialism. However, I find it more lays within the reaches of my inabilityto need to presence of  others anylonger. I do  understand the benefit ofhuman contact. However  there is  so little space left on earth for any one person to  be guaranteed not to collidewith another  human being. Therefore I feel  as though a solid few months or so to rejuvenate the soul, to be free from socialconvention, the eyes of  spectators towhich most likely do  not care  nor have opinions  yet whose opinionswe invent and play within our heads constantly and therefore judge our actionsunto ourselves  within those parameterswe  can feel come from  society and those who reside in it itself.

Would you  not agreethis statements relevance to such a topic as I  have so candidlypresented? “Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originalitywill ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (withoutcaring two pence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out often, become original without ever having noticed it.” ― C.S. Lewis, MereChristianity. Quite  certainly we see howthe  ideas we are surrounded withand  the thrusts of  the world press and congeal our minds  to substitute our  own freedom. Our world  and such the people  within it, reside inside a plastic bottle towhich  the inside label tells us willonly  allow slight bursts of fresh airto  ignite within our  lungs. How so? Well they give us paint brushes to paint the scenery towhich  we never truly experience butsimply document to  turn into knowledgeand not a memory. They gave us music to avoid the singing of the birds, theflowing of the brooks, the harmony of the melody the wispy wind provides. For wasn’tthat just the annoyance? They provided dance, on hard floors, with specialshoes and  sparkles and stiff  poignant skirts with rigid lines; this to replace the rehearsals with the grassyfloors.

Our feet once  upon atime could play notes into the  earth’ssurface, dance with the  wind, and feelthe  scenery  before we saw it.

People. They evolve into things greater. They become better. More  advanced. However, simply only if yourdefinition of advancement is  replacingone good thing for another of similar and slightly ostentatious  qualities with  increased marketability.  For you cannot  market the music  of your backyard  now can you?  Simplicity  has vanished. The earth, the trees, the flowers,the  birds see no need in improvement andadvancement.” Nature does not hurry yet everything is  accomplished..”(-Unknown) Simplicity isreplaced with dissatisfaction. Who’s to blame? People.

Just  get rid of thepeople who  think shoes are a must.  Who believe that the  sky is just up.  And who will take a  photo  of a beautiful thing before they see it. Thosewho regard peripheral vision as just what your eyes leak to you as you pivotyour head.  Those people who agreeit  is logical to build  one house upon another, simply because theone underneath was not sufficient to such standards they did not decideregardless. Get rid of those people.  Placeme on an island somewhere with nothing but a good book to  read over and overagain  until the words sing themselves throughthe trees I walk next to and voice new stories from the branches I form withinmy dreams;  then I’ll be happy. Then my ssoul may feel alive once more  as itwas  before I left the womb. People,people are the problem. Now  one person…just  one. Now that’s simple.