I see, I see it everyday. False smiles, different from the suburban trophy wife. These smiles tell their story. You've never seen these smiles, felt them? Then you haven't noticed yourself making them. "How are you?" To the cashier at the grocery store, followed by a smile. but really, you don't care how they are, your busy, I don't blame you, busy with nothing to do, I do it too. Simple hellos let others know your normal. What's normal? How many times has that argument been fought? 'what's normal' I can tell you, but like anything, its all relative. Normal is being content having a good job holding some sort of stature being above those not normal keeping the social stigmas living them, naturally. I just realized I can't tell you what normal is without writing too much. Look at the magazines and those big T.V's
they can tell you better than me. But from what I told you... Being content. None of us are. You got yourself a good job, good job, you now have status among the living, good job, your not that alcoholic *** living on the streets, your not begging for change, you give it, not because you want to but to show that you have that to spare, good job, you are an outstanding citizen contributing the only way we realize how, by spending, good job, but, oh there's always a but,why, oh why the but, tell me my cups half empty, but I assure you sir, I've only drank a quarter of my coffee, my americano to be sure, in a 16oz cup to be surer, but to the but's, that is what we can call life, or reality. But what?! You hate your job and your bigger house only made you smile when you bought it and when you flush your demons down your ebony marbled **** catcher. I smile then too, the ladder that is and without the marble. but you still feel unfulfilled,
and still, yea, still, you don't know why, but your not content with not knowing, because then the boogie man is real and you look the fool, so we give our little smiles to tell the others "I'm normal" because we don't think we are. but, if they don't know, then, its fine. But, thats not all. If you haven't noticed that 'habit' in you yet, then your smiling that same smile to yourself. Because if you don't know then your free. Free of the burden of fearing you don't know. Oh but brother, I don't blame you, no, I don't hate you, I do it too. I guess what makes me different is that I noticed. But, Does that really make me different? Does it really matter? I don't know. I don't know if I ever will. I'd like to say, "but thats okay" but my americano is almost gone, my cups about empty. If i was really content, then fear wouldn't be my 'companion'. Fear of money fear of love or lack of, really, fear of progressing, fear of failure, fear of moving back becoming less, not fear of death but of dying unnoticed. Fear of not being called of rejection of life. I've noticed, with myself, that when one fear grows strong, the other worries grow into fear, they rise to the surface, goop in my pores, suffocate me and I hear myself plea with death to take me so I won't have to take myself because everything would be easier done dead. But, I don't want to die, I want the easy button, but I don't want that,
but I do, then I get confused and lost in this push and pull which is my devil which is my angel tugging on my ears as i scream "Shut up! Shut the **** up!" Sometimes though, I remember to ask, to be honest with myself. Why am I afraid? What am I afraid of? Is that really what I'm afraid of? Why am I afraid of that? Is it because of my past? Or because of urgency? I keep asking. Sometimes remembering hurts, but, thats how to clean your pores, I find it sometimes, sometimes i find what makes my devils grow. Most of the time I don't like it. Because I feel ashamed of it. Which is why I bury it deep. but, if you allow it to be, accept that it is true, to bare that shame. These fears are walls, friend. Pass through them. Are you still listening to me? Its okay if your not. Punch me in the ******* face because thats what you might think to do. Who am I to tell you your fears are just walls that rebuild if you break them down and close if you build doors, that these walls aren't solid, which is why you can pass right through them? Huh? Who am I?! I don't know. Just know though that I tell you to tell myself.
because I forget because I give better advice to others, because I should give that advice to myself, because I breathe, I think, I die.
We all die. But death is not different from life. Just like I am not different from you. But how do I know that when I don't even know who I am. Who am I but another but in life. I am that ant which carries the maggots, I am the creak in the door, I am why your car won't start, I am the sugar in your coffee, I am your god, I am god. But don't worship me. Worship yourself. you are the smell of the rotting trash.
you are the water we drink. You are god. Everything is. So what? So what's the point?To remember that we don't have to give each other false smiles anymore. The more of us that open ourselves, the more that will choose to open too. What does that mean? I don't really know. I have answers. But what are answers from another. An answer from yourself answers more. At least for me. Your worried if your right though. Right? Believe, Breathe, Be patient. Again, this I tell myself. Your still listening? Thanks. I end my rant to **** Is that crude? rude?
But...