The world in which we live has many predetermined regulations.
Likewise, the lives that we find ourselves living have many variables beyond our control.
The monotony of our lives is tedious, perilously balancing on a razor blade between utter boredom and frenzied attempts to keep up with arbitrary demands.
Whether we waste our days flipping quasi-meat products in grueling heat, or trudging through the halls of a building where “learning” is a verb whose meaning has long been forgotten, we are stale in our lively hoods.
Yet, because our society is so enthralled in the concept of speed and “doing” we often fail to see the pit of depression into which we have fallen. Our “job” is to keep moving. We are taught that dreams are beautiful so long as they remain in our heads. We are shown those who have achieved greatness only to be reminded that our chances of doing do are negligibly slim.
The pursuit of happiness is only a wild goose chase until one has the golden eggs.
The word, “Realistic” is giant’s hammer, slammed down our dreams and passion, crushing them like mushrooms in the forest. That word is a demon pouring like acid from the mouths of those we trust. The word itself is but a stone. And it’s true that those who use it only wish us good, safe lives… Yet such stone and good intentions pave the road to our collective sorrow
Be not tainted by others’ grim resignation of passion. Be not disillusioned when fools preach blindly from cubicle alters that the value 401k out ways that of your own happiness. For what is the American Dream if not the pursuit of happiness?
Little green pieces of paper do not lift the soul.
Let our path be lined with the failures of risk taking, and let the lives we live be our own.
Let our passion thrive, and may the rules and regulations of our world be broken and burned so that we may create society a new. Fill it with art, ingenuity, creativity, and love.
And above all, let it be our own.