Some Things Are Broken

If, in looking for “good people”, you anticipate–full stop. You cannot anticipate. You don’t know what the good people look like. You never quite will.

Continuing: if you anticipate flawless people, who easily understand exactly what you want or need, you’ll always be disappointed. Nobody knows you. Frequently you don’t even know you.

Is that what you are reduced to? A system of parts so dysfunctional and self-absorbed but not self-reflecting that you wait around in expectation for other people to define you?

Why is it so easy to fall into some no man’s land, some limbo wherein you need other to tell you exactly who you are and yet you never talk to them, so how could you know?

You cannot speak a universal truth when you speak your heart (or, more accurately, speak your limbic system). There is too much in the world, and you yourself, in your egotism, are too complex to be the one shining example of all that exists through some shared experience. You will always be wrong.

It does make life easier to self-address, to fall back into your own pit.

Whenever I say “pit,” I think of a rough, splintery peach pit, and the sharp core within the glorious bliss of nostalgic flavor and vibrance.

Or a pit viper.

Connotations separate us and unite us; one cannot know everything because there is too much. One can never see into the mind of another, because sealed within each skull is a bewilderingly complex system of aggravation and honed chaos and beauty too bizarre and too specific to be legible to the corporeal consciousness of another.

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