vegetable man how are you

This world is upside down. I thought there is chance. I told myself: 98% of people are already dead, brainwashed, but there is that 1% who can change the world. I was wrong. We live in a cycle and we have no escape. Medicine is wrong. It is not about finding the cause, but offering a short-term palliative which after all makes us worse, which after a while fades, and the pain comes back, stronger than ever. You can’t sleep? Here’s a pill. You have too-small a dick, too-big a head, too-thin a lips? Here’s a pill. You are dead? Here’s a pill. You keep popping pills after pills, but the cause of your pain still there. In the morning, the pill has been absorbed and digested, the pain is back, and here you start again: pop a pill. 

The law is unjust. It is so complicated and long and it misses the point. We have given ourselves too many problems, we have asked too many questions, we have made things so much more complicated than they actually are. We have given wrong names to right people, and right names to wrong people. 

In this upside down world, how can you trust people anymore? Society smirks and gives everyone a mask. Here is your mask: you are a middle-aged man, there is no hope for you. Here is your mask: you are an average child, you have to become a nurse. And you take it and put it on and you think how beautiful it is. The mask has perfect lips, a slim body, long hair and fake eyelashes. Your mask is beautiful: it is pink and white and yellow. And underneath the mask, it is you. It is you struggling to breathe; struggling to think; your mask is suffocating you, it is squeezing your brain, and so one day you forget it’s only a mask and you think it is you. Your mask killed your little face, and took over your soul like a virus. 

We are so busy organising our insignificant lives, planning and making appointments and counting hours, calories, hairs on our head, pounds, days, years; we are so busy counting our lives that we forget to stop. We never stop. We never stop and think: what am I doing? What am I actually doing? 

And so we are dead. We are dead long before our body dies. We just sit dead in our little houses, laughing and talking with other dead people. Our bodies decay, our bones wither, our hair falls, our eyes go blind, our friends forget about us and we forget about them and that’s you. 

If you want to do something good for this world, if you want to help, if you want to stop them: you can’t. You can’t because they say you’re mad. You are insane for saving the world. Child, what’s wrong with you? You want to save the world, change yourself first so: Here’s a pill. Here’s a pill to change yourself. Really?

And so our heroes are insane. Our heroes end up in a prison cell or in a dark dirty room dying. The real heroes are out there, finding cures for cancers and starting wars. You have killed 5000 people? You are a hero! You have killed one? You are a murderer. 

You cannot even talk to people. You cannot even tell them about all this. They are happy, they say. They have four TVs, they have 2394243249 friends on Facebook, their lives are more than perfect. And so here is why I hardly have any hope left. The people used to have open minds: you told them and they understood. They helped. Now people are closing the doors. They have stopped helping or caring or even thinking! 

At first, I thought that really the only thing that is left for me to do is die. Why should I be living in such a wrong world? But there is only one thing we can all do: acceptance. We have to accept everything, no matter what it is. You just have to accept death in all its forms: in people, in ideas, in dreams, in poetry. You have to take it all in and absorb and accept. You cannot change what is happening. You have to move on and pretend it’s not there. What can you do? You cannot stop death, you cannot stop the world, you cannot stop the heroes from doing their thing “saving the world”. All you can do is observe. Be a witness.

I wish for a better world but it is not there. Others may have found it but I haven’t. 

You cannot peel off the mask, you cannot burn the frontiers put by society in your brain, you cannot change the world, you cannot change yourself either. But you cannot die. You have to live despite all this. You have to live and one day, the mask will wither and fall. And your face will be there, fresh and beautiful. The frontiers will collapse and your brain will function again. You will spit all the pills out and you will crush them and realise your pain is gone. 

You just have to accept and move on.