It comes a time in everyone’s life (I guess) where one is confronted with the changing forms of reality. It’s sort of a transcendent adventure as despite all your efforts to either speed up or slow down time are in absolute vain because on this ride called life regardless of how much you’re all over the driver’s seat, you’re not in control of the vehicle.
The vehicle is a whole entity of its own just like a human being, you can steer and guide all you want but at the end of the day, each to their consciousness and will, as to the vehicle. At times you may steer and it follows, other times, well it does what its noggin tells it to.
Now that I’ve yapped enough about this life thing, yanked and redressed it in self fancy profound literature, you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m about to elaborate on for the rest of this article. And the honest truth is, I don’t know. At this point I actually don’t know what this article is about but I’m trusting the process and allowing the flow of things to just take natural course.
Trusting the process, pppfftt what the bloody hell does that even mean, besides it being one of the commonly-used-in-attempt-to-draft-pseudo-motivational-speeches(because thanks to the internet, with a 5 min crash course one easily becomes a self and internet appointed expert on absolutely anything). Trusting the process. Might as well bloody call it trusting in oblivion… That allowing the flow of things bit though, that was part was absolutely original and all me.
I wish I could just introduce the topic already, but the honest truth is, it feels a bit cliché and too much of a deep cut for the vibe I’m going for with this. Vibe. How often that word gets thrown around these days…even more than it was used back in 2017 when 2Chainz’s dreamy-but-trappy track It’s a Vibe was released, wild.
Or hey. Perhaps it’s contextual.
Whatever the case may be, I’m really not trying to delve into what’s on my mind right now lest it makes me seem a bit square and stern, much more than I’d like to be perceived to be. Oh and ungrateful; I fear the sentiments I might share here may be somewhat viewed as a mildly blatant display of a lack of gratitude, but honestly and truly this is a conundrum that I find that I simply cannot escape or evade.
I’ve learnt a few tricks here and there to stall and distract myself-who am I kidding-I haven’t learnt any tricks, what I’ve actually done is – receive gracefully the distractions offered by life on a periodic timeline, kind of like per diem, I sail through the gentle waves and brace myself through the turbulent ones. But like a circle it all comes around to a point, and what that point is I have no crying fuck of an idea. What actually is the point of this? See it’s those stares (blank and scribbled) and pearl clutching gasps I didn’t want to bring this up in the first place, but since we’re here.
What is the point?
See it’s become blatantly clear to me that I’m not special, I may be special contextually (operative word being maybe) but like beyond that, I’m no special somebody, just like you. Calm down, I’m just going by the odds based on statistical data. So already we’ve arrived to the conclusion of there being no prize of (HEY YOU’RE SPECIAL), at the other side of the ribbon at the finish line, and chances are 9/times out of 10 we already have a shitty wake-up-eat-work-shit- sleep-repeat schedule, so like I just need someone to show me the point of it all, like someone showed me how to find the Cosine of fucking plant 92 and Jupiter 10. Is that how it even goes…you get the point (I know you actually don’t but let’s just move on).
When I was in my early pubescent years, right about the time that Prince William married Kate Middleton, I, a merely newly born teenager set my eyes on red-haired-bad-boy-and-wildly-troublesome Prince Harry, younger brother to William. I suppose teenaged me figured since my mere introduction to William was at his wedding, I had a better shot with the younger bachelor lad, who at the time, I would have fed Chelsea buns if it meant getting over a certain Chelsea, better yet we would’ve wedded in Chelsea if it ever came to that and given the old queen lady (your highness) a real fright and run for her noggin.
I always had a feeling he liked his coffee black, but I suppose he likes it with a dash of creamer…quite a far cry from black, but I suppose we’re living in a world of color (the irony), hello spectrum.
So I didn’t make it into the royal family-I’m clearly not studying to become a Doctor (Cos 90 what-?) or any life changing shit like discovering the cure of Cancer-not only can I not sing like Beyoncé, I’m not even the Beyoncé of my own life, I’m not on any profound trajectory/life mission, I don’t have a special anyone in my life so im actually only contextually special to my family (that’s kind of sad) because I don’t exactly like people (geez Louise) and kind of operate like an island so don’t have too many friends, but I’m fine I promise. (lol?)
Besides wake up, eat, work, eat, shit, sleep, repeat. What other point is there to this life thing? (feel free to rearrange the order and place that shit (pun intended), anywhere you want ok? Ok. But seriously though, I feel cheated. I feel like, how I would feel if I discovered that NY Times Square is only lit up with bright lights in movies but duller than a blunt knife in real life. Cue in meltdown scene
So bright lights don’t actually exist? That cannot possibly be a figment of one’s imagination. But then again after having been fed fallacies of a glamorous adulthood my entire childhood, evidently the seemingly never-ending sky is the limit with possibilities.
Written by yours truly beloved lost-but-a-dime-twenty-something-Gen-Z-highness.
