so much depends on following those structures, don’t it? even though you say that you are an artist, a philosopher, a scientist, a rational thinker, one who would never be taken in by the absurd trivialities that seem to afflict all of your fellow humans, you keep on trucking, you tell yourself that what you have to say is more important than others, and of course, you build yourself a little pyramid on which you can stand high, high, high above us all and look down upon us---making yourself a god of your own holy domain.
and yet, the reality is that you spend so much time gallivanting round them internets, commenting & criticizing all those that don’t seem to follow what it is that you been preachin’---see, they got to understand that you go them new ideas that are gonna change the world, no? one imagines that you get up in the morning & probably force your spouse at gunpoint to make those triangle pancakes that mommy used to make---you sit down at your table and watch the world revolve around you. people probably call you a “teacher” because they see in you the need to “preach” but alas, they are not the same, friend.
when your spouse leaves the house, you probably get on your computer and visit all the sites that you use to exploit for the sake of your new found way of looking at things. you spend a lot of energy on these moments, for they beef up your inner self, which we all know is really something of a quaking catastrophe waiting to explode---the only thing between you and the gun is a naïve feeling that your denunciation of others on a daily basis will somehow change the world you live in, by some nonsensical domino effect of fate---which, of course, you tell yourself that you don’t believe, but any doctor of stupidology would deem you stricken with the increasing stages of self-denial & paranoia. if you stepped foot in a doctor’s office, they would probably strap you down & pump you with meds, diagnose you as whatever it is you really want to be (so ya’s got somethin’ to wear on your sleeve and say look at me! look at me!)---they might even, with your sole permission, feed you the state apparatus whose approval you so blindly and relentlessly seek, intravenously, just the way you like it.
but when you step outside, when you step under the microscope fueled by the sun and looked through by no one, that sense of being entirely alone, and mute in the world that surrounds you and sickens you, is something that irks---you should be standing on a podium. according to your innermost hopes, you will someday be speaking in front of at least 4 microphones so that all the world will bow at your exceedingly maniacal ramblings. someday you will have your own version of hitler’s salute---we all know that you been practicing all those authoritarian gestures at home, when the spouse is out enjoying all of the pretendy-freedom that comes with the institution of marriage, one that you for some reason still find valid, amidst your exterior liberal self.
your loud, boisterous, teddy roosevelt-ish exterior speaks lies & falsities which you want others to hear so that you feel you may be set apart from the pack, but inside, you are hollow, a shell of a being, and you constantly try to fill that with a sense of purpose through attacking others who may not exactly live by your new found, but not yet published, answer to the human race.
in reality, your upset words are nothing but the clearest way for others to see you. you reveal them by attacking others in a way as to bolster up your own absence of self-esteem & fear of dying unsung. and those triangle pancakes, i’m afraid, as comfortable as they may make you, and bring you back to a time when someone considered what you had to say as being important, basically because these parental figures did in fact care a great deal about you & their unconditional love would have lasted forever. however, with unconditional love comes one secret condition which nobody talks about. if you rely on those that love you and believe that your interactions with them define you, then when they go, so do you.
standing in front of the mirror, finishing those triangle pancakes, filled with only more upset words for this day to come, there is only the possibility that another victim-to-be will retaliate with something that would make you feel as if you had any meaning at all. without the fight from someone you have attacked, you are simply a beating heart, some veins and a brain that would be put to better use sitting in a jar at some university, waiting to be pieced apart.