They say we came to this world alone, and that it is our duty to fly away the same way. Somewhere in between, you might run over to a few personas here and there. But, everybody is replaceable, you do not need anyone, neither are you irreplaceable to someone, right?
Then why bother to fit in?
Squadification, if it may be called that.
Then why bother to fit in?
Squadification, if it may be called that.
"I was walking down the pitch black, brightest white lighten-up hallway. Floor was white and shiny, walls were navy blue and matte. Fragile individuals standing still, captured by their own minds, firm groups swaying in the light breeze, trapped by the threads of a (the?) puppeteer.
It is in one's human nature to seek glassy safety. They taught us to fake it until we make it, right?
People, since the very first ones, went all around and about in order to find an easier way. It was quite working for them. That is, until that thin line between homo sapiens and other animals was made. Nevertheless, nothing really changed since. We got steam machines, electricity, toilet seats, chocolate with hazelnuts, Wi-Fi, chemical substances that increase natural income of potatoes, parliaments and medicaments. Yet, nothing changed, didn't it?
Turning left, faking a smile, I found my self in the poorly produced theater play. Poor because it didn't cost much to get in.
Oh, but just so you know, if you didn't pay on the bridge, you will on the overpass.
There I was, standing in a soap bubble shield. It seemed nice. Only, sometimes it would appear nicer to stand lonely in a dark box made of hard blocks. Then it wasn't sometimes. Then it was just in the nighttime. Finally, it was every fucking millisecond.
As the evolution of everything that ever existed, introvert pre-revolution took the mind a quite few lightning years to get to the point.
Just like that(?), I started being part-time charlatan, full-time masquerader.
You know how in pop-rock-indie chants, half skyscraper high, half into vodka bottle singers emphasize about all the bein' bad feelin' good. Being bad feeling good what? Bullsiht.
Concept of normality killed the human, curiosity killed the cat, and in reality, we're all troubled.
Venetian mask of gold and red shun around my eyes while I wandered in the alleys of individualists and thick white rag was around them while I stood still in the groupish production.
Did I ever made it while faking it?
I sure did, I made it to the cocoon's nest.
Cheers darlin' ! We made it as easy as it gets.
Industrial revolution started when we needed new source of energy, American revolution set off because they needed to break the Royal fence, French revolution was invented due to the too much of a state chaos. Mine has risen in the desperate need of myself.
The thing is, modern society gives out the pictures that groups must be similar on so many levels, for too many reasons. And we tend and tend and tend to reach that perfection, only to be broken inside and realise so a moment too late. Only the minority does. They start talking to their selves when nobody's home, fool their selves that they came in this world alone. Nobody told them how it was gonna be. They are too young to get their hearts broken, too young at heart yet it got too late when they find themselves so far apart.
Losing right at the point where the world stops and we begin.
Instead of just letting be. Finding the You in you. Becoming an individual. Gaining a radioactive magnetic energy. Erasing standards. Breaking squads and stitching up circles of smiley faces. Or resting bitch faces. Or any kinds of faces, ruining the existence of blanks.
I guess it never went wrong, it was like that since the beginning of time. It actually has to go right.
There are no individuals, and the squads are as real as an objectively perfect person. They're not real neither they should be.
There's just you, me and the world."
Rainy days always end cozy and comfortable. Queues end and make you stronger. Food gets tastier after you go through a little wait. You find a bit of enjoyment in the adrenaline rush of the deadline sometimes, don't you? The finals week teaches you stuff, even if it's in a form of a pocket manual for pure survival. Sad songs cheer you up because you feel understood, and don't you lie. Instant coffee does it's job yet doesn't require dressing up and giving away those very important five euros that you've been saving up to buy those perfect shoes. And we all know that unlocking a door with bobby pins is mostly fiction. Dusty books are indeed the best ones when you give them a chance and go through a coughing fight with the "dusty" part. Abandoned houses make pretty amazing photographs and sights.
Winners. They do stand alone in the bright lights, but it's the midnight applause that counts.
It's not about the ones that accept you, it's about the ones with whom you find. The ones who found you. You in them, and them in you.
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