2 Minutes. Go!

They tell you you’re stupid because they feel stupid. They feel like they are impostors about to be found out. Its fear we’re talking about. Real, honest, gut-churning fear. They could be exposed. They could be laughed at. 

But they can also be the one doing the laughing, all spiffed up, looking like they never felt stupid once in their lives. 

They screw you over because they are convinced you would do the same to them. In their minds, everyone is a cheat, a liar, a potential criminal. They think highly of themselves and lowly of their fellow humans. 

It should be vice versa. 

They steal from you because they think everyone steals. Teachers, Doctors, Politicians, Plumbers, Landscapers. They must all be on the take, so it is only logical that they scheme and steal and misuse … it’s just par for the course.

They are not bright; they are dim in every sense. They hide as much of themselves away as they can, and they construct the rest. They are putting on a show. For themselves. For all of us. 

They are the court jesters, and all we can do is laugh.

2 Minutes. Go!

I've done some things I'm not proud of. Actually, I'm not proud of most of the things I've done. I did them under duress. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to find a chemical that made life bearable. Which is doing something to do nothing. Stupid? Yep. And it didn't work. The chemicals turned on me. Now, I read books like I'm drowning. Like ideas will save my life. Like pretty words will calm the riot in my brain. 

I'm not proud, but that doesn't mean I haven't done anything to be proud of. I don't trust people who go around feeling proud. I don't vibe with people who wrap themselves in self-congratulation. You're a human. Part angel, part devil - just like the rest of us. I'm gonna look at myself honestly, even if that means I hate me. 

I don't understand the folks who go around feeling proud for no reason. It's toxic. It's not conducive to conversation. It doesn't make you a good member of the pack. It's not all about you, see, it's about all of us. 

Some people live lives of quiet desperation. Not me. My despair is loud and clear, though I try to keep it to myself - I know you have your own heartaches to deal with. 

You gotta do what you gotta do, but not if it hurts others. That seems like basic common sense. That's what my parents taught me. What their parents taught them.

Who raised you?

2 Minutes. Go!

We are made for the chase. We are not falcons or leopards or snakes. We are warm blooded, but toothless. No talons. No claws. What we do have is a body made for running. A cheetah will always win in a sprint, but we can outrun them. Chase them down. Get organized. Stay limber and moving. We have sweat glands to aid our efforts. We have long legs with strong muscles, and we can go for miles and miles. 

We are smart enough to sharpen sticks. We can pick up a rock and throw it. Not like a monkey with its offhand tossing. We can throw with accuracy and velocity. But more importantly, we can invent. We can make things harder than rocks and throw them clear across the world. We try not to, but we can. 

Go ahead and start running. You’ll feel exhilarated for a few minutes as the slow bipeds lope behind you, turning into barely visible specks. When the prey stops to rest, we will gain ground. Then, you will begin to feel panic - you will make poor decisions under stress. You will realize what every animal realizes eventually. You may beat humans in the short run, but we’ll keep coming, and we won’t stop until all your kind are dead.

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The skin comes off easily. His knife work is strong. His hands are strong, too. Butcher hands, made for blade and meat. It is early morning, and the hunt was successful. His people will eat well today. He puts his hands under the skin, peels it back. He takes small bites of the heart, raw, to hush the agony in his stomach. He will not eat more before returning to the village. He is strong in this way.

There is a soft glow coming from the east. It unsettles the man, and his uneasiness is revealed in the way that he hunches to his work. There is a frantic need to hurry. He can feel it. He doesn't know why, but he trusts these feelings. He always has, and he has lived when others have not. He knows he must listen to his intuition.

The carrion birds are in the tops of the trees, awaiting their feast. They will not come near until the man leaves. They know what his arrows can do. The ravens respect the man, but they also fear him. They are grateful for the scraps he leaves behind.

He pulls dried mushrooms from the leather sack around his neck. He munches a few and then waits for his vision to sharpen, for his eyes to be opened wide. This is communion. He did not have to use the mushrooms for the hunt. Instead, they will speed the process that gets him back home.

These are just natural things. You don't need to be upset. The man kills his own kind? So, what? Many animals do this. This is part of the natural way. And the ravens have come to love the distinct taste of human meat.