Milo is a degu.
The Things We Do To Ourselves:
One: Obsess over all the little details to make one day special for another person
Two: Ponder what-ifs as if our lives depend on the outcome of the things that never actually occur
Three: As humans we obsess on contact, to the point where we cannot be alone for an instant to breathe in ourselves. We long for that last-lost kiss from the long-gone love and dwell privately on their lives and the effect it has on our immediate lives and "what-ifs" of our future happiness
Four: Hypocrisy is the drug of the masses, with justification it's syringe
Five: We long for something different than what we have, shoes, purses, shirts, underpants define the "me" of right now
Six: Pray-- Not out of faith, but out of fear.
Seven: Hope--Not out of optomism, but to oppose our pessism.
Eight: Let other's define our worth, the number of those who loves you equates to a metaphorical wealth...yet if that one person doesn't reciprocate, we feel as poor as the friendless-loveless loner.
Degus die if they are not with another of their kind. Are we the same?
Is it possible to exist without the things we do to ourselves? Is that what makes us human? We may be human, but we are far from humane, we may not be physically tortured like a rabbit covered in lipstick, but mentally...
I dwell.
I obsess.
I worry.
I fear.
I care.
We may not have been happy as children, but does that justify our unhappiness as adults. Defence mechanisms developed to protect us... From what?
"It's all just a lttle bit of History Repeating"
Is it all just repetition into a world of anarchy? Yet, anarchy is no longer a political conflict, but a personal one.
So, Boys and Girls, sit back, sip you whine, and take a drag of your cancer stick of discontempt. Cheers to personal distruction.
Now,
You dwell.
You obsess.
You worry.
You fear.
Do you care?
Maybe you do, maybe you don't.
Drink up, and don't forget your keys.