Play With Fire

Hello stranger! We live in an odd world. We are all odd. Yet we are determined to place everyone in the same box. One size fits all. Imagine that! Perfectly cast after a prototype. Bodies are dull. Any bot would suffice. It is the mind that makes the difference. How come our world is built on models that everyone should be able to perform at the set level? If you underperform you are deemed worthless, damaged, lacking, useless, stupid, dumb boot. The heck is wrong with you? Hard things can be extremely hard. Easy things can be hard or impossible. But you got to jump high or break your neck while trying! You are not trying hard enough! Listen judgy Jill! You don’t get it! They are trying. Not hard. Extremely hard! To fit some stupid cookie-cutter standards some drone created in a windowless cement cell. The slave machine! Level up or be worthless. Ugh!

Look at that loser. Struggling with a simple set task. What a moron! Shame. Perhaps, if you weren’t a moron with the ruler stuck up yours you would learn a thing or two about how different humans work. There’s also this thing called compassion or are you so desensitized and dulled down you see only one value in people. What can they do for you? What gets you what you want? The dollar sign ding ding ding! But look they have this and that going for them, what are they complaining about? The surface level isn’t something to judge someone’s capabilities by. Can you ever truly tell what is going on between the ears? What’s crippling? What’s making them stumble or reach their greatness? It is easier to judge though than giving them a hand, giving encouragement, a healthy nudge, or ask what is happening. It is easier to say it is none of my business, and not to give a fuck, demand the performance from the racehorse. That is exactly why we sometimes feel so alone when we don’t distract ourselves from the sad reality.

I’m an old, worn out racehorse. I am judged when I am not performing. They say if I can you can. They say I don’t try hard enough. They say I got this and that going for me, how dare I complain about life. The other day I was judged about my physical capability to keep up. But I did not exaggerate when I said worn out. Of course, I could push it with a risk of becoming cripple too. Shall I push it? Jump or break your neck trying. Nah. There’s no shame in admitting your limitations. There’s no shame in saying I can’t sometimes.