Oddly enough

Watch me and read

There is something I haven’t shown you yet.

Given the opportunity, especially at the wee hours of the morning whilst sleep escapes me, there is something I haven’t shared.

A good person I am not. Simply spoken I am at best a pretender in the most pretentious skin – for that I am thankful. Everything I do, I do for me alone.

This, many would consider, is freedom.

Separate at best I see this as bondage. Freedom lies in the idea that we are different – yet I have no such illusions. I see my truths for the spit in a gods eye they truly are. What I am and/or could be is┬ácounter posed┬áby the reality of a simplified existence. And this existence? Merely an illusion granted by delusion, something crafted as you sat in your parent’s ‘guest room’ quantifying reality in simple measures and scoops.

It seems easy, I know it must, but understand the small falsehoods we are lead to ingest, and glimpse a truth so often overlooked.

There are simpler realities, those we make our own, and these are things to which I myself stick – something ideal, a cute utopia in the face of so much adversity – perhaps, when all’s been said and done, we might have more of worth, something easily identifiable.

As I see it, this is false. This is to deny what we are and what we seek – doubt not what we have, but rather what we mean…

…in everything I am, with everything I was, I see doubt and destruction. Look closer and smell the chaos in those eggs/that chili/these potatoes…a line of questioning well founded. If there is an end, who am I to define it? Seems to me this simpler path walked makes sense, but i know your questions, for at the same moment they enter thought they are once again self same. Please, don’t doubt this small thing – when turtle eggs hatch on the shore, it isn’t the mother that finds them weak and willing.