Maybe I am.
There is only so many lies that you can speak in this world. Sooner or later the truth is going to come out. And when it does come out, perhaps it is covered in so much slime and dust and dirt that no one recognises it at all and it just gets tossed around with the rest of the junk.
The idea that truth is some sort of precious, pristine, cleansing thing annoys me. It really does. What if there is no such thing as the truth. What if what we are actually looking for is a lie? THE lie? What if we are actually chasing smelly farts and the sweet stink of tropical gutters? What if we are looking for the sweaty armpits and the smelly anus of a pig who has had one too many plastic bags?
What if real joy rests in a pool of warm dog turd and what if true happiness, and I do mean true, is to be found somewhere in between a blood soaked rag and three gallons of someone else’s saliva?
What if every single thing you have craved, every single dream that you have dreamt, every single craving you have had is nothing but a cry to listen to nails being run down a blackboard? A scratchy, whiny, hi pitched scream which runs into your ears and punches your ear drums and makes blood spurt out of your nose?
What if what we want is not what we really want? What if our dreams are not actually dreams but just nightmares taking it easy? What if we are actually living our lives through closed eyes? What if the real world is so bright that our eyes would burn if we were to actually open them?
What if we are actually surrounded by water but can’t see it cause we don’t want to? What if our minds are actually creating the world we see around us? What if the mind is creating every single feeling, every single sight, every single pin prick, every single sensation?
What if we are actually living in nothing? What if we are all just stars who died a million years ago and only exist because light takes so long to travel?
Okay. Enough b.s. for the day.
But, really, I am amazed.