Tuesday, March 15, 2011


One thing I really, really disliked about you was that you always screwed things up for me. Didn't I deserve what everybody else had? You were kinder, much, much kinder to them than you ever were to me.

Will you stop staring? It's rude to stare.
At least say something in reply.
How fucked up can you get?

Screw you.

Screw you!!


I'll tell you a secret kid: I like my subtleties. And here's another one: I've long song since become deaf to all of your race's complaints. I've endured it for eons, before I decided one day to, in your own words, screw it all. I've had enough of it all long before you were born. Your race can be so dense, you know? The truth can be before you, in bright neon glory, and you fail to see it. Do your kind a favor, kid. Figure it out. Everything you need to know has already been given to you.

Now don't go giving me that look. I've seen that before. It's what you give me when I tell you the truth you've all been looking for. It's not what you expected, isn't it? That's the same look you all give me before you start complaining once more. You call me names. You accuse me of doing things. You call me vile, cruel, heartless, and many other things. And this is after me doing what you wanted me to do. Nope. No word of gratitude at all. Thank you, you piece of shit. Nope. None of that. 

You all make choices, and if things don't go well, or if the outcome isn't quite what you wanted, you blame me. Again. What else is new? What things don't I get blamed for? Oh, right. I never get associated with good fortune. You all gloat that it was all the fruit of your efforts, well, to an extent, it is, but not wholly.

Tch. Humans. You all want things, only the good ones, too. You have no room for anything less than what you want. You get what's really only a very, very light slap to the wrist, and you'll cry rivers. You become too passionate at the cost of abandoning any and all reason. I mean really now, seriously. How irrational can you get? And please, don't even think of giving me the cliched we're only human, we make mistakes. Mistakes cease to be when their impetus is your will itself. They become a choice. For a race that's tried so hard to define things to get a semblance of the meaning and purpose of existence, you utterly fail at defining a lot of the essentials.

You do best when it comes to the complex. It's the simple things you seriously need help with.
Speechless, eh? Well, like I said, you humans don't like it when I get blunt.

Well, kid, you're young. Still a long way to go, most likely. And that's if you don't make choices more stupid than the usual. Anyway, where was I? Right. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. There's this belief, see, well, it's not really a spoken belief, it's just there, deep down, hidden in each of you beneath the many layers of your, tch, human complexities, that Life's rarely kind. Consider yourself lucky. Now's one of those moments.
There's no lesson more obvious than what's taught to you during your adolescence. Yes, it is taught, albeit subtly, still, there are some things whose importance doesn't pale depending on the manner they are passed on. Anyway, yeah, one of the best way to live is taught by your zit.

Psh, don't give me that blank look. Zit. Pimple. Acne. The greasy bane of generations. Yes, it's one of the best teachers, because for something that teaches subtly, it's pretty obvious, more so than the usual. Your kind always preferred the obvious.

I don't understand.

Damn, you really are slow.

Just tell me.



Dammit, kid. Tell me, what do you when you get acne?

I prick it. Duh.

Don't you give me one of those meaningless words for meaningless babble. Anyway, well, there you go, you just said it.

Said what? Prick my acne?


What about it? Just fucking tell me.
I teach you what's important and you swear at me. Really. But fine, if that's how you like it, so be it: don't prick your acne if you don't want that face to get messed up.


You're hopeless.

No, tell me.

Don't prick your acne if you do not want to get scarred. That's one damn fine way to live: if something turns up, don't go out of your way to counter it. You lose that way. You lose sight of what's essential, and you lose in life. You risk getting scarred, and some scars are permanent. Let things be, they will pass. Trust me, all things pass in their own time. And when they do, all they'll leave behind is experience - something to learn from.

Now you're quiet. You actually got what I said.

Tch. I can't help it. It's an ugly sight. It must be eliminated at all cost.

You can, kid. Trust me. Learn to accept things and let them be. And here's another thing: it all turns out good in the end, though admittedly, the end could be really close or really far from where you might be. Suffering is a choice. Grace is a virtue. Serenity is a gift. 

Believe me, kid. I'm Life in the flesh. 


For a friend who taught me that conversations can be stories, too, and that they can be as powerful or more.

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