Fortune Cookies
I cracked the fortune cookie in half, and proceeded to shove its crumbling remains in my mouth as I unfolded my fortune.
"A friend will bring you a big surprise soon."
Immediately my heart sank. Surprises never work out. Surprises are never good. Even if the cookie wasn't hitting my true fortune, the possibility of it being even vaguely correct upset me. The cookie was mocking me with shit wrapped in goodwill and a larking attitude. So I rummaged through the Chinese food bag to find a fortune that might rival the other one. Maybe something that reinforced the status quo. I grabbed another cookie and repeated the process.
"Your heart will always make itself known through your words."
Damnit! Worse than before!
Wait, that's not even a fortune! The cookies are lined against me with their deliciousness! They know I'll never crack one open without overanalyzing the words inside. Call it superstition, chalk it up to my ability to remember inane details, or call it a self fulfilling prophecy, but the majority of my fortunes seem accurate.
What if I don't want my heart to make itself known through my words? What if I'd like my blackened heart to stay tied to the slab where the serpent drips poison on it? My brain didn't put an end to its mischief and tomfoolery only to have it express itself through my words all the day. That's where my brain is supposed to have control of the situation, thank you very much.
What if I don't LIKE my heart? What if I'm in purposeful opposition to everything it stands for? What if my heart is the thing that makes me question how I can be given free will yet be yet morally responsible?
My brain certainly doesn't turn my words into the angry, negative, angst-filled drek that my posts so often devolve into. That's my fucking heart. My brain makes sure the table is covered with a nice placemat, beautiful flowers and delicious metaphorical appetizers so it doesn't taste like so much shit when you get to the main course.
Oh fuck it, I'm already too embroiled in unrelated metaphors that reek of irony to even go any further.
"A friend will bring you a big surprise soon."
Immediately my heart sank. Surprises never work out. Surprises are never good. Even if the cookie wasn't hitting my true fortune, the possibility of it being even vaguely correct upset me. The cookie was mocking me with shit wrapped in goodwill and a larking attitude. So I rummaged through the Chinese food bag to find a fortune that might rival the other one. Maybe something that reinforced the status quo. I grabbed another cookie and repeated the process.
"Your heart will always make itself known through your words."
Damnit! Worse than before!
Wait, that's not even a fortune! The cookies are lined against me with their deliciousness! They know I'll never crack one open without overanalyzing the words inside. Call it superstition, chalk it up to my ability to remember inane details, or call it a self fulfilling prophecy, but the majority of my fortunes seem accurate.
What if I don't want my heart to make itself known through my words? What if I'd like my blackened heart to stay tied to the slab where the serpent drips poison on it? My brain didn't put an end to its mischief and tomfoolery only to have it express itself through my words all the day. That's where my brain is supposed to have control of the situation, thank you very much.
What if I don't LIKE my heart? What if I'm in purposeful opposition to everything it stands for? What if my heart is the thing that makes me question how I can be given free will yet be yet morally responsible?
My brain certainly doesn't turn my words into the angry, negative, angst-filled drek that my posts so often devolve into. That's my fucking heart. My brain makes sure the table is covered with a nice placemat, beautiful flowers and delicious metaphorical appetizers so it doesn't taste like so much shit when you get to the main course.
Oh fuck it, I'm already too embroiled in unrelated metaphors that reek of irony to even go any further.