You are not okay

Alone, is what humans can’t comprehend. The first man couldn’t stand to be by himself, so he begged God to fill the empty void with a befitting silhouette. His sons mated with their sisters, what now is a horrifying taboo was then perfectly in order because man mustn’t be alone. The greeks held such frivolous parties where they inebriated on laudanum and made philanderous attempts at maidens.

Long before telegrams, people made tedious journeys on foot, or with an animal for several hours, just to connect with someone for a couple of hours, and be able to tell other about it.

Social media arrived, and it’d be false to believe it was still about the personal interactions, like Lilian in the neighbourhood, or bob at work, because the whole world is watching, at least the network of Intelligence the government uses to monitor digital blueprints is .

It’s no more about you and I.

We are part of a network that ensures that we will never be left alone. Isn’t that great?, isn’t that what we want?

No?

Then there’s something wrong with you, perhaps you’re the type who relinquishes on casual encounters with strangers, who’ll end up chopped up inside your refrigerator. Or even a stalker, whatever, I am afraid you’re not right you see. You don’t call your parents or talk with your bestie for lengths at a time.

You are not okay.

The rest of us are so perfectly well-adjusted. We crave meeting people we’ve lost contact with and catching up, especially so we can tell our normal friends and anybody with ears about it. We love to go to work and smile with our bosses and colleagues even though we’ve fantasied about slashing their throat severally. HAHA. But that’s normal you see, everybody does it but you.

As long as we don’t understand you, you are dangerous.

So here are some pills. Take them till your fingertips are numb, your pupils are dilated, and you laugh at the top of your lungs at every horrible joke. Take them until you feel liberated to talk about the colours pirouetting around your ego. Take them until you’re empathless.

And then you will be okay….like me.

The process

I tried many times to explain how it works

but really there is no formular to solve this

the mess is alway supposed to be ugly

Something you should hide from everyone that knows you

if they see it, you feel guilty. if they don’t, you feel guilty

you don’t tell anybody and you nurture fear

now there is hole, borrowed so deep you can’t see the end

this all started with your perception of the mess

look at the mess you’ve made

you’ve harvested a basket of regret

i can’t speak right, and i cant laugh right

but the mess could be beautiful too

i don’t need these guilt

i don’t need to worry about others beliefs

it’s the process of unravelling your mess that straps you tighter inside

like a fly struggling in a Venus fly trap

but you could see it as a person

let it know you’re still afraid but this phase will pass

as long as we live, there will always be new messes to process

better to work with it than to push against

there’s never been a formula for it

I am a mess, but i’m beautiful still.