Nonexistent and Aristocratic
It’s a cycle. It’s the washing machine spinning in continuous circles, and we are the dirty laundry. The dirty laundry pushed in by mysterious, dark hands that skips soaking, and goes straight to rinsing. We are clustered together, interwoven in each other arms and mixing with dirt, trash, sand, and small pebbles. The soap is a beverage with 70% alcohol content. The fabric softener is a sheet of broken glass. The water begins to fill in. We can’t breathe, but it feels so good. The cold, alcoholic water entering our nostrils, falling straight down to our lungs. Our lungs are filling up, pass the “max” line engraved by the creator. The swirling of the washer begins, and we are holding onto each other. It’s a cycle.
When I was young, a picture of me was taken while I played in a baby pool, with the sun reflected off the water and into the lens. On my back was an etching, the kind you find written on the plastic dolls at the local store. The kind where you flip the doll over and there it is, what developing nation manufactured it. I’m not a doll made out of plastic; a human with flesh and bones. On the lower part of my back, where the hem of pants wrap around, reads the following: “ 97% humanity, 3% manmade.”
I’ve hit the developmental stages of life, each with new tribulations and malfunctions. The textbooks have taught countless amount of researchers the way the human mind interacts with the world around us. Theories have been written, lectures have been recorded. Professors have stated that the interaction with others has evolved throughout the course of existence. There has been no evolution in the human mind’s capacity to understand each other. The goals once thought about in the beginning of time are the same goals attempting to be fulfilled today. Wars are still waged, violence is still fresh in the air. Technology has evolved and changed, but we are becoming manmade products of our own cycle.
A continuous cycle is one that fails to end; circulating its contents with no sign of seizing. This lifestyle we live, where we are drawn to violence and wars are waged over the greedy hands of elites, is beginning to get old and wrinkled. We have been selfish for all of our ancestors’ existence, we have been benighted to admit that we are addicts in destruction of our peers. We are addicted to competition. We betray, we lie, and we cheat like savages in a hidden colonial establishment seeking a way out. We speak of peace, yet we are willing to slaughter anyone that gets in our away or does any form of damage to us. We speak of giving, yet we take away from anyone that sleeps with an open palm. The cycle has been rotating since the Earth began rotating on its axis. Is there no hope for a mass awakening and reflection of invisible cycle?
Every year that comes, there are the same media-driven stories about the same issues touched upon in the 1900’s.A modern civilization with poverty, wars, hatred, violence, sexual abuses, and anything to make us feel less humane. Crime watch programs are created, sexual offenders websites are uploaded, news articles are written. Thousands of responses to humanity’s criminal history, yet it gets worse every decade. There is no seizing our addiction to violence and our urge for destruction. We pray for disaster more than we pray for miracles. We strive to cinemas where films about murder, rape, drug addiction, and abuse are being replayed and we pour out our wallets each time.
We are content with chaos, we are satisfied with destruction. It’s as if our ancestors threw in the towel centuries ago and we just follow in their footsteps. It’s a cycle, our lives and the way the human mind functions. We still let our egos run our decision, and we still ignore the issue that deserve attention. We have placed black blindfolds across our eyes, living in this world blind and unaware of our murderous ways. A mass awakening is desperately needed, for if an awakening doesn’t occur, we will find ourselves in this endless cycle for centuries to come. Progression will not be in sight, and our children will suffer. A reflection of our actions, a recap of our consequences. We must awaken ourselves from this profound coma we have indulged ourselves in. Our lives are hospital beds with a machine beeping our heartbeat every second the clock ticks and tocks. Our coma is keeping us strapped into this manmade cycle with no endings, unless we awaken with clear hearts and open minds.
By the way the warmth feels on my back today, I’m not sure if it’s coming from the sun or a heating lamp placed over my head. The grass feels artificial, as if an overseas manufacturer is gently picking cloths and materials to closely depict realness. The clouds are not condensation build-up, waiting to pour water on our delicate heads. The clouds are build-up of pollution from our machines, running daily and killing hourly. I clasp my hands together, but even that feels inhumane. I take off my shirt, getting ready to soak my body in grey, murky water. I turn my back to the mirror and the etching is still there, still haunting me. This time, the etching has shifted numbers overnight, without my conscious letting me know a change was occurring. I run my fingers through my hair, which feels like tiny wires implanted into my scalp by a surgeon that was paid well. My eyes are black mirrors, no color, no sign of humanity. My heart beats and clicks, like a ticking bomb waiting to explode. I press my cold hands against my chest and I silence my breathing enough to hear the clanking of metallic gears in my chest. The water is cold, leaving minute icicles on the side of the bathtub. The mirror is beginning to crystallize, but before it does, I notice the etchings on my back. “ 5% humanity, 95% manmade.” I am a plastic, metallic doll with no flesh and bones. My life is the cycle.
When I was young, a picture of me was taken while I played in a baby pool, with the sun reflected off the water and into the lens. On my back was an etching, the kind you find written on the plastic dolls at the local store. The kind where you flip the doll over and there it is, what developing nation manufactured it. I’m not a doll made out of plastic; a human with flesh and bones. On the lower part of my back, where the hem of pants wrap around, reads the following: “ 97% humanity, 3% manmade.”
I’ve hit the developmental stages of life, each with new tribulations and malfunctions. The textbooks have taught countless amount of researchers the way the human mind interacts with the world around us. Theories have been written, lectures have been recorded. Professors have stated that the interaction with others has evolved throughout the course of existence. There has been no evolution in the human mind’s capacity to understand each other. The goals once thought about in the beginning of time are the same goals attempting to be fulfilled today. Wars are still waged, violence is still fresh in the air. Technology has evolved and changed, but we are becoming manmade products of our own cycle.
A continuous cycle is one that fails to end; circulating its contents with no sign of seizing. This lifestyle we live, where we are drawn to violence and wars are waged over the greedy hands of elites, is beginning to get old and wrinkled. We have been selfish for all of our ancestors’ existence, we have been benighted to admit that we are addicts in destruction of our peers. We are addicted to competition. We betray, we lie, and we cheat like savages in a hidden colonial establishment seeking a way out. We speak of peace, yet we are willing to slaughter anyone that gets in our away or does any form of damage to us. We speak of giving, yet we take away from anyone that sleeps with an open palm. The cycle has been rotating since the Earth began rotating on its axis. Is there no hope for a mass awakening and reflection of invisible cycle?
Every year that comes, there are the same media-driven stories about the same issues touched upon in the 1900’s.A modern civilization with poverty, wars, hatred, violence, sexual abuses, and anything to make us feel less humane. Crime watch programs are created, sexual offenders websites are uploaded, news articles are written. Thousands of responses to humanity’s criminal history, yet it gets worse every decade. There is no seizing our addiction to violence and our urge for destruction. We pray for disaster more than we pray for miracles. We strive to cinemas where films about murder, rape, drug addiction, and abuse are being replayed and we pour out our wallets each time.
We are content with chaos, we are satisfied with destruction. It’s as if our ancestors threw in the towel centuries ago and we just follow in their footsteps. It’s a cycle, our lives and the way the human mind functions. We still let our egos run our decision, and we still ignore the issue that deserve attention. We have placed black blindfolds across our eyes, living in this world blind and unaware of our murderous ways. A mass awakening is desperately needed, for if an awakening doesn’t occur, we will find ourselves in this endless cycle for centuries to come. Progression will not be in sight, and our children will suffer. A reflection of our actions, a recap of our consequences. We must awaken ourselves from this profound coma we have indulged ourselves in. Our lives are hospital beds with a machine beeping our heartbeat every second the clock ticks and tocks. Our coma is keeping us strapped into this manmade cycle with no endings, unless we awaken with clear hearts and open minds.
By the way the warmth feels on my back today, I’m not sure if it’s coming from the sun or a heating lamp placed over my head. The grass feels artificial, as if an overseas manufacturer is gently picking cloths and materials to closely depict realness. The clouds are not condensation build-up, waiting to pour water on our delicate heads. The clouds are build-up of pollution from our machines, running daily and killing hourly. I clasp my hands together, but even that feels inhumane. I take off my shirt, getting ready to soak my body in grey, murky water. I turn my back to the mirror and the etching is still there, still haunting me. This time, the etching has shifted numbers overnight, without my conscious letting me know a change was occurring. I run my fingers through my hair, which feels like tiny wires implanted into my scalp by a surgeon that was paid well. My eyes are black mirrors, no color, no sign of humanity. My heart beats and clicks, like a ticking bomb waiting to explode. I press my cold hands against my chest and I silence my breathing enough to hear the clanking of metallic gears in my chest. The water is cold, leaving minute icicles on the side of the bathtub. The mirror is beginning to crystallize, but before it does, I notice the etchings on my back. “ 5% humanity, 95% manmade.” I am a plastic, metallic doll with no flesh and bones. My life is the cycle.
posted by EmbraceTheVultures | 6:49 PM
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