the curse of Flat Stone..
so yeah, either we're trying desperately to realize what's currently happening is sufficient enough for us to call it "living", or, we're living for the future with too much hope for things happening for us real soon.
Either way it's an overall uneasiness that haunts us, like we know these are the beutiful years but we see them through foggy glasses. We know shit's going pretty damm good, but what is that thing that's stalking us?
a lyric from a song comes to mind;
sucking on a cold ciggarete
he looks into the machinery
there must be more to life
than this
A friend of mine, who's clean (no smoke or alcohol) dosen't understand why people do such things to their lungs and livers and minds. I tried to explain, but wasn't too succesful. Drop a bunch of wild mice in a cold cardboard box and make them fight eachother for food (something that they never would have to do in the wild). They'll start hating eachother, develop mental disfunctions, and simply lose their fucking minds.
so, I look around and see big soulless boxes cutting into the sky. Flat stone is the most inhuman, unforgiving, and depressing thing to be surrounded by. It's a symbol of this strange unnatural strength we seem to want so damm much. It's like a soldier who dosen't flinch when he sees a bullet fly through a child's skull. He spends the rest of his life screaming inside, trying to escape the flat stone.
My parents were the most solid, stable people I had ever known; working mind-draining, soul-crushing office jobs to give me and my two brothers everything they could. They were solid, in control of errant emotions, and dependable as the seasons.
Two years ago I found out they had both been on anti-depressants for years.
When you feel like a flawed creature, about to break down from the horror of it all, just keep in mind it's a natural reaction to a toxic environment.
There is nothing WRONG with us. There never was.
Either way it's an overall uneasiness that haunts us, like we know these are the beutiful years but we see them through foggy glasses. We know shit's going pretty damm good, but what is that thing that's stalking us?
a lyric from a song comes to mind;
sucking on a cold ciggarete
he looks into the machinery
there must be more to life
than this
A friend of mine, who's clean (no smoke or alcohol) dosen't understand why people do such things to their lungs and livers and minds. I tried to explain, but wasn't too succesful. Drop a bunch of wild mice in a cold cardboard box and make them fight eachother for food (something that they never would have to do in the wild). They'll start hating eachother, develop mental disfunctions, and simply lose their fucking minds.
so, I look around and see big soulless boxes cutting into the sky. Flat stone is the most inhuman, unforgiving, and depressing thing to be surrounded by. It's a symbol of this strange unnatural strength we seem to want so damm much. It's like a soldier who dosen't flinch when he sees a bullet fly through a child's skull. He spends the rest of his life screaming inside, trying to escape the flat stone.
My parents were the most solid, stable people I had ever known; working mind-draining, soul-crushing office jobs to give me and my two brothers everything they could. They were solid, in control of errant emotions, and dependable as the seasons.
Two years ago I found out they had both been on anti-depressants for years.
When you feel like a flawed creature, about to break down from the horror of it all, just keep in mind it's a natural reaction to a toxic environment.
There is nothing WRONG with us. There never was.