Swimming Both Directions

I am a person that discerns Target from Wal-Mart, someone who absolutely adores trips to Target, but would never be caught dead in a Wal-Mart. I know it makes no sense at all, yet I won’t change. I know it doesn’t matter what clothes I buy, yet I spend days contemplating the next outfit I plan on purchasing.

I loathe the state of our culture, while cherishing its more low-brow, inglorious feats.

I am a walking contradiction, a fish swimming in two directions.

The lights in the night sky sparkled celestial-brilliantly and I remarked, “oh, what a pretty star,” when my astronomer, buzz-killer friend corrected me. “That’s a satellite, dumbass.”

I get home from bowling league and I thought to myself, ‘what’s the difference between a gutter ball and a strike but the slightest of wrist-flicks!’ Star or satellite, what difference is it to me?

As a species, we’re 99.9% the same. But it’s the 0.01% of us that gives us our personality, and our identity, and those key elements drive capitalism, makes this whole show work. Where would we be without such special feelings about ourselves? I am and that’s an important thing to be. This is my time here on earth. I’m going to do it!

The soy candle burned low. The evening drew to a rather unremarkable end. I sat there in my kitchen amid the stainless steel and wondered what my humanity has to sacrifice to be human.

I was hungry, but too tired to eat. I decided to read to fall asleep, hoping that somewhere in my dreams I’ll exist on Icarus’s cloud. I opened the book and was stolen from my life.


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