your eyes don’t respond anymore. i didn’t know what to do. i went to the piano. i tell my piano the things i used to tell you. there is a dimension to my imagination. defining myself and my world through thought is quite limiting.
yes, if you repeat a lie long enough, it becomes the truth. but truth is fire and to speak the truth is to burn.
yet, like a fool i can criticize and condemn…but,
but my generation. the dead. we are indifferent to suffering and emotional pain. it is described the most narcissistic generation of time. maybe it’s because a kid gets a trophy for everything or because we can update the world everytime we fart. i asked my grandma for advice, simply because of her age. “any advice?”
"just roll with the times…"
for a person like me, with a feeling for fight, for resistance - i want to not roll…but it is within me, the old part, that i remember, i must- if i am to live a peaceful life…
revolution is a beautiful idea, but i am not the beautiful person to take on an idea.
when you live for an idea, you become an idea. it is courageous. i am not this.
i cannot become the idea. but, i bow to those who do and to those who can. it is nothing less than a sacrifice, and without sacrifice, human beings would fail.
and it has become that i see less and less beings ready to scarifice…and it has become that i see less and less humanity.
while we welcome in the new narcassitic generation, we welcome in the walking dead. the generation, that will start the extermination of our population, of our humanity.
this may be an exaggerated piece. so i guess i should just stop here, and just “roll with the times” right?
no, thanks. i thought that because grandma’s are old that means that they are intelligent. that is not absolute.