How Fragile We are
"each morning we wake up into the daily mess and we end up doing each and every task mechanically. If not, let's take a closer look:
Alarm clock sets off at a stupidly early time
we take more or less 20 minutes to budge a centimeter out of bed
quick leap into the shower to cool off drowziness
with towel on, now chosing the clothes (damn i have nothing to wear. everyone at work already knows my closet. great...)
end up chosing the easiest and quickest: some jeans and a shirt.
some sneakers or some shoes, doesn't matter as long as stocking or socks actually do match.
now comes the kitchen. grab some juice out of the fridge. some crackers of a slice of bread and with it still in the mouth. out the door.
trying to go against traffic jams and rush hour but it seems more morons drive or actually more animals now own a private vehicle. try to wonder off pointless thoughts with some music...
music... what makes me go through the day...
if we only thought about life as a musical sonet. but we don't. and it's only when she crashes into us that we take a closer look. that we put everything in perspective, that we see, that we smell, that we feel, that we taste. most of the days is just numbness because you can't yell to those you wished, you can't say exactly what is going on in your head ( i can't heat those ideas, i can't put my head that far up my ass), you can't say "go fuck yourself, good morning" in the same phrase...
it's like you have a part in a written script but you are not the author. some dimwit writer wrote the most nonsense lines for you.
yes sir. no sir. certainly. right away. in a minute (exact one minute). of course, it would be my pleasure (while the door closes and you stick up your middle finger...).
if you were the author it would me more like:
Yes sir, certainly, i will call you an asshole everytime you make me stapple 300 pages with a 5 cm stappler. and no sir i will not call the firemen when i set your car on fire. in a minute i will make you trip and blame it on the worn out stairs and won't go right away fetching for help. and of course, it would be my pleasure to say "sit and rotate" you demented fucking wanker fuck, go home and "#$%&/()=?=)(/& and all of the above.
But right then and now you would get sacked and you have to live out of something. But then you end up every single day repeating the same exact thing. alarm clock sets off... etc etc etc
and then when you actually wake up, you wasted most of your life not following your heart.
you can survive with little, if not because you end up with so much less...
If only we could wake up before it's too late.
If only "they" would let us...
If...
oh how fragile we are..."
Brainworm
Alarm clock sets off at a stupidly early time
we take more or less 20 minutes to budge a centimeter out of bed
quick leap into the shower to cool off drowziness
with towel on, now chosing the clothes (damn i have nothing to wear. everyone at work already knows my closet. great...)
end up chosing the easiest and quickest: some jeans and a shirt.
some sneakers or some shoes, doesn't matter as long as stocking or socks actually do match.
now comes the kitchen. grab some juice out of the fridge. some crackers of a slice of bread and with it still in the mouth. out the door.
trying to go against traffic jams and rush hour but it seems more morons drive or actually more animals now own a private vehicle. try to wonder off pointless thoughts with some music...
music... what makes me go through the day...
if we only thought about life as a musical sonet. but we don't. and it's only when she crashes into us that we take a closer look. that we put everything in perspective, that we see, that we smell, that we feel, that we taste. most of the days is just numbness because you can't yell to those you wished, you can't say exactly what is going on in your head ( i can't heat those ideas, i can't put my head that far up my ass), you can't say "go fuck yourself, good morning" in the same phrase...
it's like you have a part in a written script but you are not the author. some dimwit writer wrote the most nonsense lines for you.
yes sir. no sir. certainly. right away. in a minute (exact one minute). of course, it would be my pleasure (while the door closes and you stick up your middle finger...).
if you were the author it would me more like:
Yes sir, certainly, i will call you an asshole everytime you make me stapple 300 pages with a 5 cm stappler. and no sir i will not call the firemen when i set your car on fire. in a minute i will make you trip and blame it on the worn out stairs and won't go right away fetching for help. and of course, it would be my pleasure to say "sit and rotate" you demented fucking wanker fuck, go home and "#$%&/()=?=)(/& and all of the above.
But right then and now you would get sacked and you have to live out of something. But then you end up every single day repeating the same exact thing. alarm clock sets off... etc etc etc
and then when you actually wake up, you wasted most of your life not following your heart.
you can survive with little, if not because you end up with so much less...
If only we could wake up before it's too late.
If only "they" would let us...
If...
oh how fragile we are..."
Brainworm
posted by Miss Vesper at 11:04 AM
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