2 Minutes. Go!

You didn't have to take it. You didn't have to wrap your dirty fucking fingers up in it, tug it, screw with it, worry it. You didn't have to act like you had no options. You had options. You took the path of least resistance cause it was easy, and you're surprised that it didn't lead anyplace interesting?

No one's going to pay any attention to you if you never speak. And I'm not talking about opening your mouth. I'm talking about actual speech, communication. You know, original ideas, controversial opinions. Why would anyone want to hear you parrot shit you didn't understand or question in the first place?

Call me friend, call me team. Stab me in the back and watch me scream.

Then, tell me I'm making too much noise. Thing is, I actively try to take the road less traveled. Leads to some flat tires, U-turns, and lost hours, but it's more fun than being on tracks. The tracks are safer, don't get me wrong. 

But you don't get to guide your own ship.

Talk about obligations, but remove the self-imposed ones. Reach for the top shelf, even if you might spill what's up there. I mean, otherwise, what's the point? 

2 Minutes. Go!

Dear World,

I'm a little tired. Not gonna lie. I don't feel any nice words inside myself. I do not feel like constructing metaphors. I feel like withdrawing from society altogether. I feel like closing my eyes and never opening them. I feel like I can't take another morning of being snapped into paranoid anger as soon as my eyes open. I need perspective, but the light keeps changing, throwing mad shadows. 

The thing that's killing me? Everyone is so damn small. Like, everybody. Everyone has their shit twisted up and their guts in knots. How can you be so blind, so many of you? I'm not saying I'm some great ascetic Saint, but I understand that people are in pain and try not to judge them too hard. 

Maybe if we all took a break. From everything. Not just from restaurants, but from each other. Some governmental mandated hermitage. Every man, woman, and child alone in a cave for a year. See what kind of shit we come out preaching. See how sure we are.

So, I did this. Put these words on a page, and I know there isn't any point, but it's something to do. 

Have a nice day,

JD

2 Minutes. Go!

Go ahead, son. Shimmy on out on that branch, way down to the end where the tippy tippets dance. Don't worry, son, I got a firm grip on your belt. Skin on out there, boy. You're gonna be fine. I'll just sit here with both fingers crossed behind my back, listen to the branch snap, listen to the sound on the ground when you SPLAT.

I got your back. I'll support you. I'll be back afterwards to report you.

Step on up to the counter, man. Buy three balls to throw at a can. If you can hit 'em, you can take home this embalmed child from a third world country. Don't get all up in arms Ma'am, the thing is rigged. The cans are glued down. The balls are weighted strange. There are mirrors and light tricks. Of course no one can actually win the little mummy, Dummy; that would be absurd. My word.

I told you what for, son, don't tell me I never said it. I've got something to sell you that you should buy on credit. And, here's the moral to the story, if you think you need it. There's nothing that can't be fixed by some happy-handed horseshit. 

Amen.