Alright, I’m going to see if I can slide into that place where my fingers move themselves on the keyboard, and something that makes sense comes out. I don’t care how good it is; it just has to make sense. Let’s see, I’ve got some improvisational music in my headphones that should be good for at least the next 40 minutes.
I wish we would all just look at each other as humans. They are us; there is no “them.” I don’t know why I know this as a fact or arrived at this understanding.
People get grossed out by the homeless; they don’t understand how easily they could end up in that situation. Most people are living paycheck to paycheck, rent and iPhone bill… whatever else, like Disney Plus, I don’t know. It would only take a few missed checks to put most people in the position they try to divert their eyes from as they run to work with a $7 latte.
The situation in Gaza, I refuse to get into it, but look at what humans do to each other. I wish I knew why I have empathy for other people, and I wish I could give it to everyone. Maybe it’s from psychedelics, maybe it’s from living in poverty and squalor. I don’t know what an empath really is; I know douchebags label themselves as one, and I’m not going to do that.
I feel things deeply, for myself and for others. That’s what makes someone creative; I think they may feel things more deeply than the general population, and they’ve got to do something with all of the emotion because, from firsthand experience, I can tell you it’s a heavy load for the soul to carry around.
The people I love, I don’t think it’s even possible for them to wrap their heads around how big my love is. I can’t even verbalize it, and I can barely keep my composure when I really think about it. Tears pour out from the intensity and depth of the emotions. I cry all the time; I make my counselor cry. I hardly ever really do it when I’m sad, but it’s the happy things. I don’t mind; I hope you cry tears of joy… I hope you do it often. Because I love you.
Maybe I can’t figure out why I’m still here. I’ve overdosed on the street with a death wish that couldn’t be granted. I was hit by a car. I’ve been stabbed, beaten up, and sexually assaulted. If you think my writing is heavy, you should consider what I don’t put here… yet. When you’re a survivor, and you don’t know how you survived, things get pretty emotional.
I’m not saying I’m a survivor to be tough or whatever. We are all survivors. Take a look at the fucking world, man.
hey something came out that might make sense.
help a human : https://ko-fi.com/evr0ck17
