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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac

happy enough

in all the delusions and illusions going on inside, reality and fiction seems intertwined. which reality am i awoken to, for one is endless with possibilities, whereas the other is marred in commercialism. all the folks i know, including myself, are entrenched in pop culture and all its cravings, and that is something interesting, until you realise even activism is but an extension of pop culture weaving its way into people's whims. no one ever has a staunch ambition to be someone significant in the narrowest of understandings, nor does anyone know what is the difference between wants and needs. we have all perished in that world lit by pink and yellow and green and blue and red popsicle lights, being manipulated in the slightest of ways perpetually.

i have been made comfortable in a world of zero accountability, and why not indulge in this wondrous thing? we have only what's left of perspective, and if that is gone too, mayhaps it is for the better of everything to be aligned to the world we have built. holding on to things of value, or people, seem so heavy and burdensome, whereas something new is always welcome in this era. we see the flaws we are taught to see, and we ignore everything else to be the rightest of understanding of a thing possible. it is so predictable i am abhorred by my own humanity, and very aware of this structural deficit in the hierachy of which the mind works. it has to be fixed, for if appreciating someone means we only appreciate their perceived goodness, then that is not a concept coherent with humanity. we have to overcome this mentality of hating things we don't understand, because everyone is different, whereas systems remain the same. if we want to make things simple, that is fine, but loving people shouldn't be such a tedious reflex. what the fuck is wrong with this brain that cannot adapt to overcoming it, but only to avoid and abstain from it. shouldn't obstacles be overcomed rather than avoided? perhaps the brain functions fine, but the mind wants to be in an artificial level of which humans cannot comprehend, and that may mean loving everything, for perhaps that is a politically correct ideal, and always overused and watered down, but this should not be the case in blanket. however, i realised that i can only love things once i understand them, rather than hate any of them, so perhaps that is the key. right now, my understanding of people enable me to be happy enough, but how long can that last? i understand them less, and some even negligible. curiosity never made love to a cat, it shall only be so in crazy time. :)

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