Am I scared to move forward?

To leave the past behind?

To do the things that are healthy for me?

And to attract the things I want?

Not in the slightest!

And yet I feel as if it will never happen.

Certainly, no one is able to read my writings and take them to heart,

No one is able to understand what I say.

This is why I don’t succeed,

Not because I do not have heart,

Not because I do not know what I say, 

But simply because, whenever my works are read, they simply say, “what?”

They cannot understand,

And it breaks my heart.

Their perspective is so limited 

So fragile

So closed in.

And then someone comes along and is able to understand.

Someone, one of the few who can see what I mean,

Perhaps they’re reading this now.

But in reality,

The dream I used to have,

To write like I am now for a living,

Is all but shattered.

For who wants to support someone they don’t understand?

But then, if I write about relationships or CBD, my soul becomes crushed, 

Because I know I’m not using my intelligence to the fullest extent.

So what to do? 

Am I to be penniless simply because what I enjoy doing doesn’t have a market?

It seems unfair.

However, perhaps I’m simply blowing this out of proportion.

Perhaps I’m wrong, and people can understand.

Perhaps I’m wrong and people will support me when I need it most, if for no other reason than simply because I have a heart. 

I will keep going,

And we shall see.

I try to be patient

I try to understand.

I succeed in both,

When it comes to unintelligent people.

However, anger still rises within me,

Almost as if it doesn’t matter.

I feel betrayed by these people,

They love to destroy themselves, others, and the planet.

They love it.

They don’t even think about doing anything else.

When other options are presented to them,

They laugh and shoo them away as if they were the worst ideas they’ve ever heard.

It sickens me to my core.

Even though I understand they’re incapable of being intelligent,

That they are incapable of listening, changing, or following directions,

Unless their life is immediately in danger.

They are literally incapable of being good people.

It’s not that they know better and chooses to be detrimental,

They simply are not capable.

This does not apply to all,

But most.

Too many.

Enough to slowly poison themselves, others, and the planet.

And of course, they are resistant to any kind of change.

Because why wouldn’t they be?

They destroy themselves, they destroy others, they destroy the earth,

And they become angry when anyone proposes a better way of living.

Death is a fine consequence for the stupid one.

They are incapable of learning, changing, and being good people. They are killing themselves and others. Laziness also enters the equation.

And on top of it all, they expect better people to be just like them.

In fact, they do everything they can to pull others down to their level

As if they were the glory of Christ himself. 

As if their way of being was actually a good way to be.

Of course, they aren’t aware of their actions, most of the time,

And when it’s brought up to them they feel offended.

They’re genuinely unaware of their own malice,

Of the way they destroy.

And so I sit,

Wondering what I can even do.

Don’t I have to interact with others in order to live?

Perhaps it’s best if I only interact with enlightened beings,

Or otherwise, be by myself.

This is what I shall do,

And I’ll let the stupid human run its course,

Even though I deeply wish, and have tried, to stop them.

Waves,

The expression of time in an event so small the eye can comprehend it.

Fire, 

The expression of spreading in a way that threatens our physical survival.

But tell me, aren’t they made of the same molecules?

The same things that comprise earth and air?

“Absolutely not,” says the scientist,

Unaware that, yes, molecules make up everything he observes.

So then, is the physical world simply on a spectrum,

Just like color?

Hot and cold, hard and soft, 

Aren’t these materials with a different look and feel?

Perhaps once we begin to see the physical world like a color spectrum we will not be so obsessed by it.

Perhaps then we’ll pay more attention to our minds and our subjective experience.

They always want respect 

But don’t give it themselves?

And then, why does everyone back them up

Like they’re doing God’s work?

Strange how older people stopped discriminating based on color

But simply moved to beliefs and age.

“Oh, you’re younger than I? You’re automatically underneath me,”

Says the sloth to the man.

“Oh, you don’t believe what I believe? You must be lesser than I” they say, subtle as it may be.

They do not seem to comprehend that other beliefs may provide more wellbeing and consciousness than theirs.

I do not mean this as an extension of the game of superiority,

But simply as an observation of reality. 

They are like children in a sense,

Stuck in their ways and unable to change.

But as soon as I treat them like so,

They get flustered and angry,

As if I made a poor judgement call.

“Don’t worry little ones, it will all be over soon”

I think to myself as they approach the grave.

Running in the rain

To catch a bus?

No.

Not when school isn’t what it should be.

Stifling your emotion

To go to church?

No.

Not when church isn’t what it should be.

I’m tired of it

The constant noise telling me,

“You need to go here or there. Be ashamed of yourself for not conforming to our ways.”

Why conform, when your ways lead to a place lesser than mine?

Tell me, tell me once more

What I should so

But then tell me why I should do it

Then I’ll be the judge of your reasoning

The choice will be mine, not yours

For I haven’t got time or patience for ignorance.

What have I done?

I ignored them.

I ignored their demands.

And for what? For me, or for liberty?

Certainly not for them, although I wonder if they secretly wish to be like me, or if they truly resent me.

Perhaps neither. 

Stop!

Tell me your ways!

Tell me why you want to be the way you are!

Aren’t you proud of yourself? Don’t you want to explain why you do what you do?

But they do not

As if I’m supposed to magically catch on…

Sometimes I can and the consequences when I can’t seem quite severe. 

Fair? Not in the slightest.

But I feel as if my life is threatened when I don’t accurately predict how to act with someone who is sensitive in a detrimental way.

Help? “Only at a price,” they scream. 

I sigh as I wish I could simply help with no strings attached.

Tell me, why live like this?

With money and fear?

Tell me, why live like this?

With a stunning lack of cheer?

It doesn’t make sense and it doesn’t feel right

Why not just look up at the bright starry night?

But no, to school you go, don’t miss your class!

Tell me that one more time and you’ll find I’ve got a lot of sass!