Problems with Chain Tag

Sometimes I am just like "Seriously. What is up with the world?" We are one messed up bunch of creatures. Human beings, that is. I think the ants are doing quite well as a race, actually. But us human beings. Goodness gosh. We have problems. Boy, do we have problems.

We hate each other. We kill each other, attack each other, hurt each other and try to bring each other down. In some ways people condone it saying its natural, animals do it and war is really part of the natural balance of power and influence in the world. Well screw it. I'm sick of it. I can't stand it. It's in us, in our blood and in our nature and it makes me sick.

We hate ourselves.  And maybe for good reasons in many cases. The heart forgives itself so slowly We hate what we've done, where we are at and where we always have been and probably always will be. I look in the mirror and I don't see much. Maybe reflections are really just that hallow. Life is a funny thing. It's never what you want it to be or what you would have wanted to be, and yet we all create lives for each other. We bring more of our race into the world, raise each other into maturity and by our social systems and hierarchy, we very much influence not only who each individual will be, but what their lives will be like.

Some people don't want anybody. They will pull themselves up by their bootstraps and they do not need anyone. Not true. Not true at all. Yes, you influence your own life. But so do countless other people. It's never just you. For better or for worse, we're all connected. It's like a silly game of chain tag where everyone is running in different directions while being forced to hold hands. Why do we focus on breaking the ties that bind instead of trying to work together? I don't get it. I don't get a lot of things though.

It's enough to make you want to give up on yourself and everybody else. But I can't get everyone to sit down on the ground, holding hands and singing campfire songs. So does that mean I have to keep running?

Ah, but in which direction?

Inside and Out

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

I watched you walk. Limping. Struggling. One foot at a time, hunched over, stiff all the way up to your hips. I felt guilty for striding so easily and solidly beside you. It looked like it hurt you to walk... a lot.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

You looked at me with suspicious eyes. As if because I was different from you, I hated you. As if I thought I was better than you. You looked like you believed it. I wish I could have somehow convinced you that I didn't.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

I hate to see you crying. I hate to see your frustration. It is hard to bare, watching anyone in pain, much less someone you care about. And yet, what concerns me more are the things that I do not see. The things that you hide. Often times those hurts that you can't see are the deeper ones. The ones that hurt the most.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.