How it’s hard to be a person.
Lesson One.
Being one.
It’s fun when you’re a kid because mischief is cute, but now you wear a suit and “funerals” is in your vocabulary and there’s never peace of mind and you’re always weary for the times when you make a mistake because being an adult means you have to be great 100% of the time... unless you’re out of your mind in which case it’s legally forgivable, but you’ll never get back the friends who were critical and that brings us to
lesson two. Cynical.
Making friends.
Making friends is hard in this bizarre world of mine. As an adult you never have the time. You don’t know who to trust. If it’s the opposite *** it must be lust, right? I mean that’s all we’re ever told. Fight for the right to make out. The brave and the bold always go for the gold whenever lips are involved. Same *** is just as bad. It’s sad really. Hyper masculinity & competitive-ism run amok. It’s just our luck that we’re taught to be different but also to never give a ...
“Who cares if things are bad. Now let’s not get political. So you’re saying that when you were young you were proud to be whimsical. A trait that you developed. It’s personality? Well personally I think it’s weird. Originality? What are you queer?”
You see the point I’m trying to make? You don’t? Well for goodness sake, open your eyes. You think I’m not trying? You’re lying to yourself if you think this is easy.
Putting it all on paper.
Being an instigator.
They’ll say “see you later” for sure, but you bet they never will.
Alienated for the views of loving everybody.
It’s hard to be human.