What Does it Mean?

What am I supposed to do? I’m here. I don’t know what to do. I can only say things, and try to make you understand them the best way possible, and hope that it helps in some small way for both of us. Otherwise, what am I really doing if not just being here and saying words that seem to mean one thing but in reality mean another?




The truth is, I’d do anything for you. Everything except let myself stop putting my head down and keep pretending like everything’s alright when it isn’t. But even stopping all of the nonsense wouldn’t make a difference because nothing changes no matter how loudly we try screaming into an uncaring wind up above. There are big problems beyond our control going on out there – wars which can never be won; races who hate each other only because they don’t understand each other enough to know otherwise; strong people using their strength against weaker ones without realizing that more than likely someday those weak will become powerful themselves (stronger anyway) so why wait?


Momentum favors speed over mass any day, didn‘t you ever learn that in physics class with Mrs Watson back at Wendell Smith Middle School? Who cares who had what when. You don’t see spiders or beetles build pyramids?





Why do we think that time is only linear and single-directional way up there, knowing as well as I know what you like to call your liberal arts education that it isn’t at all like this down here on earth where Einstein proved otherwise back in his day? And yet somehow still live everyday thinking the opposite of Inflated Expanded Neo-Riemannian Manifold Time for some reason even though simultaneously acknowledging the truth about such possibilities through process calculus whether asleep or awake (and yes Mom, brought full circle again so tomorrow can finally be a brand new clean slate)?


Mom said something once upon a darker age one night after dinner because I couldn’t stop complaining about being bored – calling my excitement level flatlining off into nullity with every step inside ever closer toward building study hall plans around no conceivable interests anymore not just outside but also already inside possible shelf space left over from high school graduation earlier that year. She told me she thought White Male Subjectivity was boring and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with it since she didn’t have anything to do with the whole mess she’d inherited.


It was the first time I’d ever heard her say anything like that.I don’t think she meant it to be mean, but in some ways it felt worse than if she had been trying to hurt my feelings on purpose because then at least there would have been an obvious motive and so maybe I could have understood why she said something seemingly unfair with such a cold tone of voice instead of feeling angry and confused as I did when all seemed random without any apparent reason for what came out of her mouth next. And even though this is supposed to be about you not me (and again Mom, thanks for being proud enough even just now inside your head), imagine yourself standing there listening only able somehow still unable knowing whether or not these words were true --


You see the real problem here isn’t White Male Subjectivity; rather, it‘s people who are stuck thinking they can never escape their own narrow-mindedness anymore than we can change history books written by others long ago before us into different stories from those which exist today – believing themselves powerless against forces bigger than them pulling strings behind curtains while simultaneously acting like nothing else matters except making sure they get theirs no matter the cost.


Mom said sometimes she couldn’t sleep at night thinking about these kinds of things – how people lived out their lives only seeing what was right in front of them without ever looking left or right or up above to see all those others living similar existences with different problems and yet still somehow feeling alone inside even though surrounded by strangers likely experiencing similar feelings if not identical ones altogether. And then when you look around, everybody seems lost inside his or her own head instead of paying attention enough outside themselves long enough realize that we really aren’t so different afterall:


We want love; we want understanding; we want happiness -- maybe a little bit more often on some days than others depending upon circumstances beyond our control such as weather patterns back home or layoffs at the factory where Dad works; but we still want it nonetheless.





We don’t care about race, gender, politics -- those things are only different-looking decorations on top of a cake that tastes the same whether you slice open and take a bite yourself or watch someone else do so next to you because why not? You can always choose what flavor icing goes best with whichever kind of fruit filling inside no matter how many people might disagree over which one is tastiest in this moment right here now.


And yet instead too often choosing to focus more attention on just being able to fill our own stomachs than stopping for even just half an instant first ask ourselves if maybe there isn’t already enough food in front of us when others look hungry as well (even though they aren’t)? And then once full stop eating altogether until everybody has had their share before taking another single bite, knowing all along deep inside that this does happen sometimes after all – be honest: have you ever found yourself sharing your lunch with somebody who looked hungrier than me without thinking twice about it?

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