Timothy

Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2006-01-26 11:44:01 (UTC)

tell tale signs

No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and
embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because
they might have sent the wrong message.

There is a point in one's life when one cares about selling
out and not selling out. One worries whether or not wearing
a certain shirt means that they are behind the curve or
ahead of it, or that having certain music in one's
collection means that they are impressive, or unimpressive.

Thankfully, for some, this all passes. I am here to tell you
that I have, a few years ago, found my way out of that
thicket of comparison and relentless suspicion and judgment.
And it is a nice feeling. Because, in the end, no one will
ever give a shit who has kept shit 'real' except the two or
three people, sitting in their apartments, bitter and
self-devouring, who take it upon themselves to wonder about
such things. The keeping real of shit matters to some
people, but it does not matter to me. It's fashion, and I
don't like fashion, because fashion does not matter.

Actually, I'm lying. More to myself than anyone.

But that's ok.