Domesticated Lies

Actors in a play
Puppets on string
What common element do they all bring?

Pre-orchestrated movement
false roles, hidden meanings
Yet wrongly, painfully done and hell bent

No happy facades
No laugh bringing jokes
screaming and yelling, heads on a spoke

On a great wheel of anger
Deceit, and wrath
Clawing your way, though our homely domestic path

Why would it be, a woman of age
Wisdom and knowledge
Would fly into such a blinding rage

When a boy of merely
four years less then a score
Can behave without acting so sore?

Fuck.

Worldly complaints

I just realized, anybody who is under the false impression that they are selfless. Needs to look at themselves properly. Because in the end, everybody, me included, really cares about themselves. You will complain, something will go wrong, and you will have a little bitch. We all do it. Don't lie.

And that's precisely what is wrong with society.

We would rather ignore a situation, like a stranger getting harassed, then get involved, and get ourselves hurt. Sure, we would help someone close to us, easily, because in the end it benefits us, because we keep that relationship strong.

But then, maybe I am looking at it the wrong way, being pessimistic, but that's just because I'm in a bad mood.
Sorry Blogger, These are my rages.

Muffin Stuff, Roger

Precorded.

Sometimes I wish I could view events before they happen, in order to prepare myself, how to act, what to do. But then I think to myself, Wouldn't I then act differently, according to what I wanted to change the outcome to?

Then, would the outcome change at all?

And on another point, would all that nonsense count as time travel? I mean, you would only get one shot at doing things right, So it's like, one step down from doing things normally, and one up from rewinding time.

Which makes me think about destiny, and whether we all have choices in life, or if our lives are pre written and we just go through living them, like puppets, or characters in a book. Then I usually get rather depressed when I imagine this being true, Because it means someone out there is a LOT better writer then me.

Then I get all mopey about the futility of our actions, So I make myself a green tea and wish I was stupid and didn't think so complicatedly.

Tempted

I was really tempted to write a blog post and tell you about the mood I'm in which is kind of the entire point of a/this blog.

But you know what?
2 things
Uno) No one will want to/will read it.
Duo) I couldn't be fucked.

Right, Going to start my new story now, Bye.