i have an itchy back.
.
and i guess my hair isnt very nice today either.
but im pretty happy. and bored.
can those two thing co-exist?
i respect that boy who spends his days alone working towards the greatest piece of artwork that was ever created. but no one will see it, mr recluse. you will have no one to show. and once it is complete, you will have to drink cups of tea to soothe your nerves. you will sit and stare at that thing. the thing youve created. and you will hate it. you always have hated perfection.
thats why you hate me.
no, thats a lie. im not perfect. my legs are too long. and my eyes are too blurred. but why cant people just start fuckin believing that theyre perfect? just do it, okay. stop reading your meditation books and philosophy of life books.
JUST BE PERFECT.
it couldnt be that hard. and we wouldnt be able to ever doubt ourselves or worry about that HUGE pimple that is growing under our freckled skin.
.
“It was quite easy to be alive. All you had to do was be there, standing on the earth, breathing and staring vaguely at something. All the rest followed…”
.
Can you be what I stare vaguely at?
Please.
