Objectively Subjective

Chew, if only you could see what I’ve seen with your eyes!

-Roy Batty

…and that is how I got this huge scar across my stomach…

…you’ve never met that (aunt/uncle) who died from…

…in my head the sky is a color that denotes a stabbing is about to occur…

…I’d tell you about when I was a kid and how hard it was, but I can tell that you aren’t listening so let me sum up with, I will crack your ass the other way if you ever do (insert something stupid that people do around me) again…

…that one time where this happened, followed by that…

…you’d think I’d been to jail before…

…I don’t blame people, but I do hold them responsible, and then I remind them as often as I can of their screw up…

…sometimes, there really is a life lesson buried in one of my stories…

…hard as this is for you to believe, this time it is true, because strange shit really does happen around me…

Funny story, I really am grounded in reality, so much so that I think my feet are stuck in the concrete that is the depressing miasma that this life seems to be so often-bills, schedules, blah, blah, blah, blah…and yet if you were to meet me, were to hang out with me, you might wonder…

why is he such a dick?

or

is something wrong with him?

I don’t know. It is possible that something is indeed wrong with me and I am fine with that. People with real issues don’t have as much fun as I do and probably get called less names, but fuck them if they can’t see what I see…besides whatever would be necessary to “fix” me wouldn’t agree with me

I know that Roy Batty had it right. Through my eyes and my interpretation of everything life is removed from the miasma, but you have to be able to take a chance to let go-free you ass and your mind will follow kind of thing-I can’t explain it and I cannot repeat a day. I tried. I tried to tell everyone what happened during one day and I couldn’t.

Not that I couldn’t tell them what happened, but the details changed, the words changed, the whole story became different with each telling. Entertaining each time and yet, even as my word hole spewed forth the details, my grounded myned kept silently saying, “but wait that didn’t happen exactly that way,” and I guess my mind is fine with that I know my soul, ethics, morality is because I haven’t stopped once to say, “Sorry, what really happened was exactly this…” instead I roll on confident that the important salient details such as nouns and verbs are there, but the adjectives change…

That! That right there! I am objectively subjective. Wait…yes, that does sound wrong and yet that is what a story teller is someone who can keep the nouns and verbs in place so that people can follow along using adjectives to add color…

which may explain why I was never able to draw Tippy the Turtle to get my correspondents art course, still bugs me to this day, fucking turtle, tippy or not.

I wish I found some better sounds no one’s ever heard.

-Twenty One Pilots, Stressed Out

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