I’ve been doing a lot of ‘navel gazing’ lately, so to speak. And if want to tell me to not be so selfish you might want to go elsewhere. I’m tired of playing along. Thinking about life, what I’m trying to accomplish and all the rest. And most of all, wether or not I should write about certain things. After all, “The snacking sage” is a thing I made over a year ago. I never really explained why I picked that name. Maybe I’d like to change it. Perhaps my blog needs to be organised and whatnot.
Maybe I should link it to social media If I want more views? (I don’t use it at all, apart from wordpress) Mind you, seeing other people’s blogs and the comments they get? Yeah. No. It’s like a pack of ravenous wolves just waiting to tear people apart. And for what? I Don’t understand. When people insult me I don’t hate them for it. I just try to find the root. (It’s sad, really. I’m disappointed.) What is it that drives decent human beings to treat one another in such a fashion?
I don’t understand you at all. You’re all barking mad. That’s how I feel. And over the years I’ve tried to worm myself into the world at large. I remember near the end of school I tried to get back into ‘mainstream’ classes… haha. Oh, that’s a story for another time. I’d be happy to tell it though. And In hindsight many of the things people did to me were entirely my fault. But by the end of all these shenanigans? I was like: “Yeah. No. You can keep your ‘normal’. I don’t want it! See ya later.” I came out of school extremely traumatized, in more ways than one. The system is so infuriatingly rigid, takes an approach that to put it bluntly can be summed up as: “My way or the highway”. I could break down every single thing wrong with society today and the Masculine mindset we have. I could explain where left-brained intellectualism falls short. I could comment on philosophical happenings and all sorts of other things. But to what end? People with alarming regularity simply admit that I’m right about all these problems. And that scares me. This is why I hate being right.
But In the end, an artist doesn’t paint for the audience. A musician doesn’t play just to entertain others. They want to get into that wonderful ebb and flow of music that swallows you up and transports you to another place. And I guess I’m the same. I love to think. But the truth is I’m lonely. Really lonely. I’ve gotten so caught up in the idea of femininity I’ve forgotten myself. I’m me. Screw what people say. There is nothing wrong with me. Or anyone else. We are what we are. And that is all.