Maybe life wouldn't be so interesting, then, if it were so predictable.
No, I think I have an idea.
It's because life where you are told your options, you are fed your opinions and you don't have to stand up for anything you believe in ((where you are always safe)) is what appeals. To you, at least. Life that hasn't got any adventure in it, any art, any beauty, any life. Essentially its not really living. But then, I would say that - because I'm one of the freaks that thinks I could live differently. That I could do something. Change something, make a difference to somebody, experience something beautiful or think for myself. Because I don't want to be told how I should look, how I should live, who I can mix with or what I can enjoy.
This little corner of Essex - yes, my home, and yes, consequently, always important to me - but I don't want to stay here. I'm not willing to be defined by the place where I live, the people I know, the clothes I wear or music I listen to, and that happens here.
And that ma chere is why we're so different. You do, you want all of that.
You want to grow up, maybe go to college and uni, get married, have two kids, name them after your parents, live in Chafford Hundred, have a respectable job.
Afraid to let anything ruin your chances of that, even the part of you thats telling you to take another step or not be afraid, you ignore it.
A fake smile pasted on a face thats this seasons' colours. This seasons pose, in this seasons clothes. Thoughts as deep as 2" of cardboard, feelings corrugated, punctured and shot with emptiness.
And the way to do this;
surround yourself with people who don't even realise there is another way to live, everyone has to like you obviously, everyone must think you are strong - the alpha male, if you will - you must get in with the right people, play by their rules. You know what this means? Let go of those others, maybe you liked them once before, but they aren't the same, they don't want to be part of your lovely, ordered, stratified cardboard cut-out society. Their opinions are different, they don't respect our rules, the way we do things. Can't have that, we'll have to get rid of them. Those people, those other people, the right ones, they don't like them very much.
Get some people who see the real you; the wonderful you, the you that has no flaws, the strong you, the one who is always right, who is the funniest, the smartest and the best looking. Get some people who believe this and gold-plate your every fucking word. Find someone who adores you, will do anything you ask. Anything. Obviously, she has to be in with them too. She does try, she can try to match up to you but she won't ever manage. Maybe, as she thinks, its because the sun shines out of your arse, but I doubt that. Maybe, its because you could see past it all. Its just you chose to give it all up.
Secretly, you laugh at her. Secretly, maybe you laugh at it all, because you can see what a charade it is, what stilted, cardboard facade this is. But did you ever think, maybe the jokes on you? Because you can laugh at their stupidity, but you gave everything up to become one of them.
I won't say the way they live is bad. I won't say that it is hopeless, but some people aren't meant to stay there. I thought you would move somewhere else too. I thought you wouldn't need all of that, be so hungry for their approval. Maybe that you were like me and maybe you could think like me. Maybe that isn't the best thing anyway. I'm not known for my exceptional thinking skills, or intelligence, or anything superb. In fact, I sound like such a snob writing this.
Only,
I can't help thinking that there must be more to life than this. Than this cardboard cut-out existence. I can't help thinking that there are more things I could do, that you could do, that we could do. I can't help thinking that this is such a waste. That you can't see any farther than the end of your road, the idea of 'how you can look best to the most amount of people'.
Well, with me you failed. Once, you looked pretty good in my eyes, hey, I might even say damn good, but that disappeared. It took a while too, but I have no respect for you now. Maybe that doesn't matter much, but then I don't really expect it to, I'm not looking for you to leave this life now. You know what you're doing right? I hope so, I hope you're happy. I hope that I forget about you, and I hope you don't imprison yourself in this life that means nothing.
You sold out, didn't you?
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life, I choose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons, who needs reasons when you've got.....?
Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending: