hello, tumblr. my fingers fumble. bumble, I wish I was a bee. I wish I was anything but human, anything but me. I wish it were the end, or everything was new. I wish it all was over or that I knew just what to do. I wish my words felt less empty, or to be the morning dew. I wish I was you, reading these words, on another screen, in another scene, another movie, another life, a different time with different love and different strife. I wish I had the answers, or better yet, did not want them. I wish my friends could overcome their burdens, or that they didn’t haunt them. I wish my words were powerful, evocative, crisp and bright like autumn. I wish I wasn’t bound by human concepts, that contractions weren’t so common, that they were not used so often, that I lived in a spacious loft and, that my socks were soft-blend, cotton threads to walk in, that I was a preacher in the garment worship gospel. I really wish the world and all of it’s people were expressly less hostile.
take nothing for granted, take everything at face value with great value while understanding context is partly pretext for the storyteller, justification for the Orwellian, the personally Machiavellian, the worsening of the human condition, the duality of rebellion, the significance of intelligence, and how, in the end, it is all irrelevant.
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