Inhale… Exhale…… flick the thumb, then repeat. Inhale… Exhale……
“Let it cuddle your lungs, let it drift off of your tongue”, I told myself. Staring into the night sky. Looking for a star to catch my eye. There’s one. No wait… that’s too bright to be a star, it may just be a satellite…
Funny that. So relevant to so many aspects of this urban day to day life… “If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is”. Just don’t get fooled, “don’t be a sell out”. That’s what everyone says, cause what everyone wants to be is a genuinely unique individual. Outside of the norm. That one star that shines brighter than the rest. To be ‘the best’. But what is it that makes someone the best? Because somehow in our world, being a sell out, being fake, is the best way to become ‘successful’ and to be the ‘best’. It’s sad really. How the more genuine people are always left unrecognized, not invisible, but left unmentioned. It’s almost as if our whole system is built around a falsified image of individualism. They say to be yourself, to be you. That you can make anything out of your life, to become anyone you want to be. But sooner or later, they ask you to change. No. They force you to change… To adjust yourself to become that missing piece in their big puzzle. To be a part of the whole system. Go to school, get a job, have a family, grow old and maybe go to a retirement home. It’s expected, and needed.
For some reason, our lives start to become a lifelong monetary struggle. You can’t get by without any financial support, and that to me is a little strange don’t you think? How a piece of paper can determine how you live. That’s how they get you, that’s how they force you to become part of their system. They want you to be involved with the community marketing and consumption. Fed by the greed of power, the greed for money, the greed to be on top. The top of the ‘food chain’. But no one really stops to think about what it really means to be on top… instead they plunge themselves into a lifetime full of artificial emotions of love and power from fake friends and materialistic objects that one day won’t be needed, or one day become redundant.
As I grow older, I start to become more sensible. I start to recognise the values of our society, and the fabricated emotions that come alongside it. I stopped giving so much, stopped being so naive. Now I find myself, sitting here trying to recollect all the memories that I spent and all the efforts that I put in to make these relations and to pursue a form of happiness. But all I see now is a mockery, of me, being so naive in spending so much for those who care so little. I don’t see them anymore. I don’t hear from them anymore. Now all these emotions are stuck in a hollow abyss in my memory. I never know what to do with them anymore. Useless.
Having said that, I struck a bit of luck to find true friends who would always be there no matter how little I can give. They always attempt to connect with me, no matter the distance or condition. Now I find myself feeling better and slightly lighter. My head’s steering away from the clouds and moving into the sunlight. I don’t need the constant intoxication to help myself from feeling something, and something real. I now realize that I don’t need to shine so bright, and I don’t need to hide the truth. Stop myself from being anyone else. I just need to be me.
But this idea of being me, a unique individual, just seems so cliche for a story book ending. That special one ‘being’ that makes me feel like I’m, in a sense, on top. But no matter how much I think about it I always end up questioning; who has the the right to define what I’m suppose to do in this brief existence of life? No one. Just me. And I guess that’s as much power as anyone desires… To have full control of a person’s life, and that one person is to depend on you no matter what. To act and feel like a God. Does that make me, my own personal God? Or at least feel like one. But as a human man all I can do is respond to what’s around me and adjust with my flaws. Social pressure. Political pressure. Financial pressure. Regulations. Rules. Expectations. The list can go on. All of which inflict wounds on my personal being, sometimes giving birth to more flaws. It hurts… sometimes. But sometimes it helps me feel ecstatic. So I guess I’m no God to myself. I don’t see myself in any way perfect.