Well first of all, and let me just say that I don’t mean to be inflammatory, but can I just say: I wish I was LUCKY enough to have poop to eat right now. I mean I’m not saying I love poop, but it’s been a few days and nothing has made it through the first 4 people or so. You know the survival rule of threes: three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food. Well, what they don’t tell you is that even a few days without food is pretty miserable!
I’m trying to be positive. Gah. I am positive. In general, I’m an optimist. It’s just that sometimes our circumstances get the best of us and, how would you feel?
Huh? I don’t need to defend myself to you? You get it? Thank goodness.
I think about death. And how there’s no way I’m going to get fed. Even if the person in front of me died and I had a chance to eat their butt cheeks from the hole outwards, I don’t think I could do it. So it’s just a waiting game. And then sometimes, I think: hasn’t it always just been a waiting game? Haven’t I just been eating shit pooped at me by someone else who’s been eating shit from a line of shit eaters, my whole fucking life, just waiting to die? I’m only 25. I always wanted to do something big. And I never did. Too busy with other things. Netflix. Work. Eating shit. So I think that’s the gift I was given. To see the whole pattern, finally, physically. And to have the privilege to see the end of the pattern, here at the tail of the line. To know that I won’t have my own shit thrust into someone else’s mouth. To know that it ends with me. And to know that no matter how much I would totally kill for some shit to eat right now, it’s never going to come. That the cycle is broken, but that I am free because for once in my goddamn life, I don’t even have the choice to eat shit.
I think sometimes we can only be free when we end our bondage to ourselves.