You’ve become red.

Posted: November 4, 2010 in hidden admonishment
Tags: , , , , , ,

I knew what I was leaving when I stepped out of the puddle of blood on the floor.
I don’t remember when it was, but I remember a barrage of commercials about it.
I’m sorry that races are run to be won or lost, but he had a good jaunt. He did a lot.
You’ve become Red Red Red now, and I worry about you since I left.
These things have a way of running full circle, so keep your head down.

Take a deep breath.

I’m down here mired in the blues.
We don’t talk about these sorts of things. I don’t talk about them.
I’m working on becoming a lady, and ladies don’t talk about such things.
I woke up to news I knew I’d wake up to, and I carried on with my day.

Most people; you know, most people…

You with your confidence lain out in various bottles
and pages
and video clips
You don’t really know who the fuck you are at all
and that’s why you’re not worth hating, not worth defining, not even worth acknowledging.

You…pining for an “I voted.” sticker.

Yes, carry on.
You’re in good company.

Good.

I might be the Easter Bunny.

Red up and down the board. Red. Red. Red.

I’m in a really good mood for no reason whatsoever. I have nothing to be in a good mood about, yet here I’ve been smiling at the wall, baking apple crisp, laughing at the world.

I just realized that there’s a certain kind of person who will define himself or herself completely on the rejected definitions of others. You. People like you thrive on controversy. You want people to attack how you define yourself. You want the labels and the condemnation so that you have something to fight against…

because, you…You ferret out judgments and labels that people offer just to disagree. You do things only to prove other people wrong. You want to prove me wrong right now. You have no fucking idea who you really are, and yet you’re the most boisterous about being so wholly and completely genuine and openmindedly free that…it’s hilarious.

This is my generation. This is the mentality of the 20-something.

Here I am sitting, smiling over bad news about my country, because I don’t care about my country. I don’t care about Americans. I don’t care about my peers. Not so much in an apathetic, I-don’t-care-about-anything sort of way, but in a nothing-seems-to-matter-much-one-way-or-t’other kind of way. There is a difference.

I care quite a lot in my current disregard.

Are the 30 somethings better?
Will my surroundings change when I hit 40?

I’ve struggled and hated every fucking phase of life I’ve been through so far, and that’s not to say I’ve hated life. Everything after around nine years old has fucking sucked. People, I’ve decided (again); people are just fucking intolerably vapid creatures.

We, of course, are not exceptions, but…I find our miserable, bitter reflections on failure are at least marginally entertaining…and really, I sincerely doubt anything is going to feel as satisfying as smiling while I stare blankly at the wall.

I may have stumbled across nirvana tonight, but I’m sure I’ll topple and fall shortly back into the Red Sea of Shit we collectively refer to as Reality. Until then, however, tumteetumteehee!

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