Random Writing #1

Create is a nice word for cope.

I think self destructive behavior is a subconscious admission that we’re not supposed to be here. I don’t mean here in a planetary sense, but in a societal sense. We’re self aware of cultural mores and feel like parasites on the greater structure, so it can be comforting to self-medicate our way to oblivion because we think it beats being this way forever.

But our understanding of eternity is actually a lack of understanding beyond what we’re born into. And if we’re born wrong, if dysfunction is the modus operandi of one’s life, coupled with the instinct to keep living, the misuse of substance and sustenance could be a quiet way of righting the wrong of our existence while alleviating the burden of consciously confronting it.

Chemical cheat codes for avoidant souls trapped by their biology. Slow deaths make the finality of it feel far away.

I’ve always felt this way.

Wrong

But there are ways around it. To be outside of something allows you to analyze it even if your inability to fully adapt will be your demise.

This is where art comes in – music, painting, writing, all of it comes from a yearning to live in a world not created for you, so counterintuitively, you create for it.

So maybe instead of destroying yourself with booze, pills, fast food and phone calls to loved ones long dead, you can be built.

Every great building’s foundation started underground, beside the bodies of potential beauty left unfinished.

Every tombstone could be a skyscraper if we just averted our gaze from the graves to the gates of heaven we hope wait for us.

It’s okay to be born wrong, but it’s sad to die because you never tried to make it right.