Bad Day at the Chrismas Card Factory

It’s meant to be a minimum of 5 articles a week, but there’s something in the air. Sometimes it's hard to have things expected from you. It’s not like I want to curl up into a ball and disappear. Nothing so indulgent. Just the need to exercise the freedom muscles. To think differently, strikeout, and misbehave by most others’ standards. Then I left my pineapple at the fruit stall, and I’m still debating whether or not I should go and get it. I think some things are meant to be. I’ll get my bromine some other time.

I’m not sure how often you notice this. I see the Instagram feeds are doing their best to convince us that it's something else. I just want you all to know that it’s okay to look out at the world and want to hurt it sometimes. It's not okay to do it, but it's perfectly healthy to ride along with a little disdain from time to time. Don’t worry too much if you’re looking dumbfounded while the world reads off its top ten best ways to cope with the world list. It’s human. If you can get past deep breathing and a regular sleep schedule when you want to wrap your hands around something living and just squeeze it until it's not, then you’re more of a something than me. 

If you’ve ever landed a really clean shot on the pads then you’ve heard that gunshot sound. It sparks a fire inside you. That same fire that everything else is waiting to dampen. Not knowingly. You want that sound as your soundtrack. It’s the lion’s roar. It’s that crystal clear insight into that part of you people don’t think about. But, when it's time to be left alone. Not necessarily respected. You should never give too much of a fuck about that. But when it's time to be left alone. For that quiet time when your mind can go to the places, it wants to go to. Without the opinions and complaints of other humans getting in the way. That’s when you need that noise.

People seem to forget that they can be a lot like cancer. Just like we often forget we can be a lot like cancer to ourselves. It seems to happen the most when people either lose sight or completely neglect their purpose. The worst cases are those that don’t have one. Because when you stumble around in life you get pushed and pulled. That pisses you off. You’re void of control. Anxiety, depression, restlessness, irritability. All symptoms of the lost. Now, it’s okay to be lost, but only if you have the intention of becoming found. And don’t go about finding things that make being lost work for you.

Don’t drum up stupid fucking habits and distraction techniques that allow you to stay perfectly still. Don’t let your passions be replaced by idle-tinkerings. Don’t look out at the successful portions of the world and think you’ll never get there. Don’t die before you’re dead. Question your time. That’s why I’m not writing a single article this week. 

I’m beyond tired of outside input. All this stuff trying to come in, and never once asking if it's okay. So many people wanting to be made right. Casting this, that and the other on situations and circumstances. You build your life even when there is no building activity. I want a mic-drop moment, but I appreciate the cliche. 

Just, go to fuck with motivational speeches and neediness. Today I’m all for the monsters. Those who have been misshapen by disdain. Those who can’t understand love despite trying it now and again. It’s okay to push the world away, just ensure your foundations will stand on their own. I want those who can’t socialize anymore. Those who don’t want to tell you what they do or where they’re from. I want to just sit with them. Perhaps drink a little something. 

It makes me think of Christmas. How everyone seems to think that Christmas is to be enjoyed. That it’s a human’s duty to enjoy the day, and if you don’t then you’re not human anymore. That poor pineapple suffocating in a plastic bag at the fruit stall. That’s what Christmas is. Left alone by togetherness, but it doesn’t take itself anywhere. It just follows you around and bumps into you for weeks. It sings its songs at you. It closes your usual distractions. There’s only one a year, so it’s forgivable. I’d never try and tear away anyone’s Christmas from them. That’s inhumane. But never expect anyone to be different for a day, or a week, or whatever. Leave them be.

My dearest monsters. It’s quite alright to be that abandoned pineapple in the plastic bag once in a while. Just remember that gunshot sound and withdraw deep into your imagination where the noise and demands sound like the twinkling of faraway stars. Be undisturbed, and if you have to be disturbing to do so, then so be it. I guess the regurgitation has gotten to me as of late. Probably some fault of my own that will make itself apparent shortly or not at all. 

As for any comments on current affairs, I’m currently predisposed.