It could be easy. I could stop writing this blog and go with the mass since I'm already above it. They're all predictable machines. Life is theirs, they live it their way. The easy way.
Well now that I consider it, all my friends and I are so much fucking smarter than the general mass (that wear adidas trackpants every day and speak like they have a chicken bone in their mouth, might I point out), that we could go into their game, and beat them to it.
We could do that.
The outcome would actually be better than the one awaiting us now.
Our current outcome will not be as glorious. Because we ask ourselves too many questions. Being so fucking smart isn't really that convenient.
Genius is the closest thing to madness. And we all know that the line is infintely thin and fragile...
I don't pity small bugs, the mentally insane or retarded children. I envy them.
Physically, their life is a nightmare, but they're too dazed to realise what a twisted and illogical world us valid people interact with.
Which is, ironically, every sane man's dream.
I could just drift away in the mass and let my originality fade.
I could be happy, albeit stupidly happy.
I really don't know why the question arose in my mind in the first place.
Maybe it's because of change, and how life happens on a variety of different levels.
There is no such thing as understanding anyone else. There is no such thing as knowing how someone feels. You want to live in a world with these things, then go spend your life in fucking hollywood with your plastic friends and hired wife (could also work the other way around). You believe in a fake world then go live in it, and stop bothering the real people.
You cannot understand anyone or feel anyone because we all think and interpret things on different levels. We all make out the signals in the air in a different way. Nothing really exists in the spaces between us. We're all completely disconnected from each other. As we see life in different shapes and sizes, and react to it in some insane ways.
Retarded kids don't have to interpret. They don't have to react. They don't have to feel or understand. They just...are. And we feel obliged to feel sorry for them, because they've been labeled invalid.
If they were aware of this, they would consider themselves lucky.
However much of a rebel you feel. However much of an outcast you are. However much of a failure you fear to become. You are still part of a machine. A system.
And you cannot get out of the system, since you are the system. It draws from you. No one could live without it.
The mass will not notice that. And they will be happy. Oh so ignorantly so.
The invalids will not have the heart nor the physical capacity to care, or even notice.
And here we are. Us. Stuck. Too smart to be stupidly happy. But far too dumb to overpower the system. And here we lie, in a place that isn't easy to be in.
People don't change. We'll stay here forever. And so will everyone else.
The system always wins.
But why do I question my world? Why do I disturb my basic notions? Why do I endlessly push at my mental boundaries? Why do I torture my nerves with this shit?
Why did I even notice the system in the first place? I could be stupidly happy. And all the other people like me want to be too. That's why some of us do drugs or drink. Because it gives us an impression that we're finally closer to that ignorant ecstasy.
So I guess I'll try to live with it in the future. I'll keep all these words stored up somewhere and attempt to live a normal life.
Pay my bills, eat my food, raise my kids, have sex with my wife.
And maybe sometimes I will look back at what I'm writing at this very moment, and remember what it was like to know.
What it was like to be face to face with the absolute truth.
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