My Original Thought

I saw something beautiful and ugly and complex and simple and ignorant and smart and different and the same. It swept me up in it’s chaos and I held on for trying to let go. This is because I am like them, but not quite. Because I am different, like them. But even more odd still. Odd in my own normality, but never quite as simple. In fact, so complicated that it all seems simple to me in the end. This all in turn makes them seem to be the most convoluted of things. Seeking perfection only to come face to face with failure, disorder, and anarchy. But there is something beautiful in this. There lives seem to be both with and without an up or down. Where right is wrong and wrong is actually middle ground. How does one strive to be both different and the same at the same time without tearing one’s self apart. Where you will whisper into the ear of the person next to you and hear the echo of your own words as a shout to the whole world even though their shouts must be taken as whispers, and your normal speech is an invitation for criticism where criticism will not be received. They content without contenting and relent without relenting and repent without repenting while in search of those who have all of those traits except for the negative of each. I won’t say what I mean but you’ll mean what you say, only in the reverse of that statement. Tare it down to build something up for that to be torn down, in an endless cycle with no beginning or end, and those who content themselves with the task of reconstruction get the brunt of it all.

Don’t play with them too much or they’ll break, Mother warned.

Content with only some differences that in truth were never differences at all. United in separation in separation in an attempt to establish order.

“I will have the capacity for everything and only do something,” It whispered to me in between the lines of it’s story.

“I will create on top of creation and replicate tradition in an effort to be different, and I will advocate for things that I do not support all to achieve the known/unknown end goal.”

I’ll slide across the floor of the train of thought on it’s route to nowhere because I am stuck in the membrane of separation.

Preach until you are left unable to push air from your lungs, but still say nothing substantial.

Don’t think too deeply about what I’ve said, but if you don’t think deeply you may never truly understand. The wonder of you as a life, as a being, alone is astounding. I’ll watch you light up in the rainbow of everything you are, while those colors stop being separate. Seven. Just seven. One. Just one. I’ll pick the colors in between, as well as the colors that you have, and take them for myself, but they might as well be transparent on me. My very own cloak of invisibility.

Find the quarry of morality and wield your pickaxe with care.

“Rocks!” It said. “I’ve been made to dig for odd rocks?”

“What do you mean?” It said. “What is a gold? Diamond in the what?”

Now abandon the enterprise and leave everything that glitters to look for everything that glitters. Now I will make every attempt to understand you and you’ll only know my face never knowing that it's different all around for nothing made can ever truly be exact. I am time, and I give before I take, but you cannot restore me, and I’ll go on for miles where you go on for feet.

I kid you not. Those slopes and curves and fading shades. I’ll see all of the colors and never know where one starts and the other begins. I’ll pick you apart and never have laid a finger on you. For you are unique in ways I don’t know and cannot understand, so I will ponder and frustrate myself over you. Something I know you will be to consumed to do over me.

Oh, you. You beautiful son of a bitch. You think yourself so intelligent. We’ve been over this already. You are and you aren’t, and you’re kind and selfish, and you’re every contradicting word in your dictionary and more. So you think yourself smart? Just tell me how there can be a piece of paper, a knife, a pen, and a gun, and how I’ll pick one up and you’ll never know which. Yes you are everything that I’ve said in every way that I’ve said it and everyway that I haven’t said it. But I can’t say those because I don’t know them, so they’re not my thoughts, and they’re probably not original.