Dismal Di$traction


One thing I have noticed in my observation of human beings is that we all have a story to tell. It’s about choosing a pathway towards a lifetime of work. Find something you love doing, forever isn’t that long. Unfortunately, it’s too hard for us to explain this to a child, but by the time they are old enough to work, they still won’t know what they want to do. It’s hard thinking about what you will love doing forever, especially when your first choices are classified as “unrealistic”, so they say.” Choose something realistic”.

Why do we find it hard to listen? To care? To believe? To trust someone? People say they understand how you feel when something goes wrong, but understanding emotions based on something negative happening shouldn’t be all we can do for one another. It doesn’t matter how many words you know, no matter what is happening in this world, as a human being you are either alive or you’re dead. We are taught to deal with the cards we’re given. Things happen and you’re expected to get over anything that comes your way. Good or bad, nothing lasts forever, yet strangely enough, time can heal all.


Naturally, we are never satisfied. We are loud, hungry animals, viscous to be heard and fighting to be understood. We’re afraid to dig into our depths, it’s dangerous in your thoughts. It’s easy to feel alone when you’re living somebody else’s dream. But we are all alone, we all are, alone together.

Somehow I’ve been manipulated by the ones I trust, to just accept things for what they are. It must be the same way they were taught, the same doubt I keep pushing out, it’s traditional to pass on your knowledge and fears. Just like prisoners, we do as we are told, even if we disagree. It’s easier that way. We let ourselves believe that one voice doesn’t matter unless you bring an army. It’s easy to believe, usually that’s enough to stop you in your tracks, forever isn’t easy. We are all not as young and incapable like we were when we were children. How long will it take me to convince you that, forever?

Every living soul craves sustenance. Fuel: food, water, vitamins, it’s what the body needs. Naturally found outside, the things we require surprisingly did not need to be manufactured to provide us with nutrients. Just our presence alone is enough. They occur naturally, giving and taking, as long as we take only what we need.

We are the only living beings here on earth that began trading basic rights for a piece of paper. Awarded to those who did the things they didn’t want to do, to trade for something somebody did the same for. Now that there is power. Trading something you can make yourself with natural materials. Are we that simple? You can never find “time”, it just passes. We lose track of it all the time. How can we keep learning, remembering, creating and replicating yet not be trusted with our freedom and time? How does a unanimous object hold all the power to our forever? That their folks is why we don’t believe in ourselves, we are ruining our only home. Not even our parents could see that our existence was special enough to stop chasing money. We all experienced the teaching in the educational system. I was taught how and why not being good enough will mean you won’t succeed. With this manipulation, we were stripped of hope of success and taught what was deemed acceptable to hold as a dream. I knew I had to choose a pathway before I even got to learn who I was. 

We are trapped like mice in a cage, except unlike mice, we will happily pay for our own cage for the rest of our life. Somehow that justifies the process. It’s not that bad, right? As long as you still get to make your own choices.

Before you grew, you were young, we all were. Did you always did as you were told? I liked to be rebellious, did you? It’s natural for us to see what happens when you break the rules. It’s easy to forget the world you thought you were growing up into. I thought my parents made the rules. We learned about history, fearful it will happen again. I didn’t realise we are all still slaves. Unfortunately, we don’t see clearly when we focus on the freedom we thought we were given when we moved out of home. “Grow Up”. Slaves with loose handcuffs; in the form of devices that can hold our created identity, even our eyes can be scanned. Brainwashed. Crazy. Some of you may even be okay with the thought. It’s easier to not care, we were taught to get over shit.

Without order comes chaos, so organise your house with all your prized possessions. You have worked hard for them, I understand the value it has to you now. Why else would our footsteps to happiness be what traps us from change? If we weren’t tempted by the marketed production and presentation, desire, there would be no satisfaction of spending your time (money). We have the option to buy the things we have been constantly distracted by, we can change. Addiction. Greed. Wealth. Power. The world is being destroyed by us, yet we still recognise change in the form of an army. When will you see the negative impacts we made. You do make a difference, you don’t need a violent army. You don’t need a miracle. They taught us well, we understand the history of change. Manipulated it, just so we wouldn’t bother.

Forget that, right? I’m too busy with my debts to care about a world I won’t get to live in. Too trapped in the web of what others can call success. Everybody wants to talk about the addiction of drugs, warn about the dangers in vaping, hear about the bad things going on in the media every day. Too much going on with other people to realise we are the same people doing it all. We are all addicted to money. Together.

  • Get a job
  • Get a car
  • Get a house
  • Travel
  • Get married
  • Have kids.


You can’t ever actually understand how somebody feels. Not honestly. People don’t often understand themselves either. You can try to relate, but we are all missing something. We are trading our time for money. Set on a dollar value, you allow yourself to be dehumanized. Trading our world for money, money for prizes, you can earn money but you can’t buy time.

This entire existence, consciences that WE ALL HAVE is something we all need to think about more, rarely we create our own thoughts. How can we all be lucky enough to be in this world yet have no understanding of how or why? What makes me different to you? Why do our experiences capture us so delinquently, yet we do nothing strong enough to stop them forever? How do we create strength from trauma? Why are we all afraid of talking about the things we don’t know? Why are we all too busy to notice that we all want the same future? Some call it heaven, some call it hell, whatever you believe or don’t believe in, you know you’re missing out. How did we let money drive us so blindingly to a life of chaos inside control? With structure comes success. With success comes destruction. With destruction comes fear and fear creates the need for structure once again. How can so many people suffer from the same mental illnesses but have completely different symptoms? How do we all have different outcomes? Different hopes and desires yet all be caught in the same addiction. My values shouldn’t be defined by an hourly contract written for anyone, but just like you, I have let it happen too. We live in such a beautiful world. It can be free if we let it be.

All I want is a world where we are footsteps towards peace. One where we can accomplish anything. One where we can travel back and forth from past to present, to the times we hear about in books. Live out our fantasies, change our minds every day because why the fuck not?


Is it because we have all been through things that have made us untrusting of how people would be without this focus? We are all afraid. We are all crazy. We are all paranoid and angry but best of all, we can be accepting. We are all the things we fear because we are the problem. Nobody wants to be wrong, but that doesn’t make you right, especially if you didn’t try anything. All these negativities are infinite if we follow the roads made before us. Just like the society before us (who’s work entitled much more welfare concerns) we keep advancing in technologies, but we are still caught working the same hours, destroying the option to go back to the earth, destroying our only home. How hard is too hard? I know for a fact that there is more to life than what goes on inside our systems. It’s easy to be occupied but I don’t want to be occupied anymore, I want to be more, I want to be enough, I want to try. I want to be scared, be wrong, be proud. I want to experience myself in my own time. I want back what we all had to let go of. You can call it youth, but I’m going to call it freedom.

I hope you make it to your dreams

Are you, you?

Be what you knew, before you were taught to be.

I remember being somebody else. I remember being more than one person actually while trying to find who I am. The memories that frolic upon my consciousness are consciously waiting for me to remember what I was here for.

Do you remember the first time you realised you were alive, or that you were good at something? Do you remember believing in fairies and dragons until somebody told you they were all just made up to amuse children and to spark imagination? Or were you the one that told them? Do you remember you? The passionate, erratic symbolicness of memories still haunt me to my core. I don’t understand how swallowing your dreams is an acceptable outcome from societies view because your dream isn’t profitable to make the world go round.

Now I bet you see your first thoughts in the form of a small child, young and free; excited, afraid, anticipating yet awaiting what life had to offer. When people told you that being a dinosaur was an unrealistic path and that it was time to grow up and be apart of the real world… was that the beginning of you allowing people to craft you into something you no longer recognise or is that something you like to forget too? It’s easy to stop trying to remember and easier to let life blow you around like a tumbleweed in the wind; life’s about chance and luck, you don’t always get the short end of the stick though.

It scares me how easily manipulated our thoughts are when we are young, yet even moreso that we let ourselves forget; to fit inside the doll house we left beside our bed each night, hoping that the dolls will wake you up with their chatter, just longing to belong inside your own imaginary world. One day I will be great. One day I will be old enough… to be the same as everybody else?

Grow up!

Join 137 other followers