thoughts

What is Life but a Disaster Movie

What We Love is of Hate

There’s always a pressing matter to discuss. A war, a struggle, a death or thousands of deaths. The world is a big place so surely something will go wrong.

Think about how the best stories are always the most tragic. We love disaster movies that take place after society collapses and the human population has been cut in half.

And why is that?

People tend to come together after a natural disaster takes place. Will it ever cross our minds that if we came together before the destruction we’d have a better chance to defend against it? When watching a disaster movie, this is what I think about: If the characters came together before the storm, would they have escaped disaster sooner?

If this is the case, the movie would be over in the first fifteen minutes. And we can’t have that, can we? Hollywood needs to make money and the audience must be entertained. The reality is that we love tragedy. Suffering breeds character, right? It’s the creed that we live by. So why do we fear death? Why do we act like we’re not in love with carnage?

What We Romanticize is Everything

It’s always a fight between good and evil. I ask myself how is this true? History has never been born of memory. War is never fought between heroes and villains, but two opposing sides. Those who win the war are the story-tellers of what caused it.

This is why war films are conflicting to me. Disaster movies with the soldier as the main character—everything that happens is from their point-of-view.

But what about the civilians? What becomes of them when telling someone else’s story? When it’s their homes that are battleground. When they become as meaningless to the government as are buildings to a bomb. We let them become foot-notes or simply forgotten.

What is History is Determined by Those Who Survive it

Life is similar to disaster movies. Everything we own is threatened when valued by someone else. It’s easy to take advantage of other people. We’d put our lives in the hands of someone who only knows how to handle a weapon. Is this why love leads to heartbreak? To protect someone, they have to be more valued than a gun.

War is chess but played like checkers. We think having the most pieces on the board means we’re winning. Sacrifice is easy with this mindset. The more you have makes it easier to give something up. In other words, it’s not a loss if it can be replaced.

Politics seem so simple when we think like this. Have enough people on our side and we’ll call it a victory. We no longer question what is being fought for as we’re too concerned with fighting against something. For once, I want to feel like I’m going somewhere rather than leaving a place. Even if the destination doesn’t exist, I’d rather believe it does. It’s better that than always having to run from something. I’m exhausted from my paranoia that anything can be a threat.

What is Hell is Made Up of Ourselves

There’s always a devil, a sinister force, or a boogieman hidden in the darkest corners. So let’s shine light there and expose them. I’d rather see the devil’s true face than pretend we live in heaven because we can’t feel the fire. Don’t you?

We never cared for each other. Whether if it’s votes in politics or successes in work—we find no worth in ourselves. What we accomplish is more important than who we are. Love is earned and malice is given, when it should be the other way around.

The future is grim as is my excitement for it.

Fear, and not love, has dictated every decision we make. It’s a sickness that everyone is infected with. A virus of hate that has turned into an epidemic. We can’t retreat into ourselves as a quarantine forever. Eventually, we’ll have to discover a cure. And yet, I ask myself: what’s the point? Ignoring the scars makes the pain hurt a little bit less.

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thoughts

An Escape Route: What Love Can Become

What are you apologizing for? If you love yourself, never seek a reason. There’s no need to answer the mirror when it asks what about you is worth loving. You, still alive, is the only answer you need.

Remember, It’s okay to love yourself and never ask why. Besides, The answers will never be good enough for you anyways. Maybe that’s your biggest problem: how you can hate yourself as much as you do.

Question love long enough and you’ll soon discover hate. Sadly, tragedy is born, not from pain, but love. It’s true, that all life has an end. That death isn’t evil but only a means in which this inevitable truth becomes reality. So find comfort in that fact.

Everything comes into being through cycles. You’re on a journey, but this path isn’t a road; it’s a maze. You must leave a place to get somewhere else. In order to escape a maze, walk through it. Even when you’re lost, you’re where you’re supposed to be. At least, if you learn to think that way. All pathways in a maze lead to an exit, eventually.

Remember this: love cannot be a promise. That connection doesn’t fit in any context. People break promises as easy as glass. They’ll watch it shatter on the floor and won’t bother to pick up the pieces. Instead, they’ll find that shards can make the perfect weapon. It’s sad that people are monstrous that way.

This is why you must be careful of those around you. Be aware of the friends you give that title to. Even the heart can be a weapon to the body it occupies. In most instances, love can be a threat. Provides sanctuary only to take it away from you. So how would you describe Hell? It’s the place where Heaven no longer is.

So what can love be other than a question? It must mean more than a statement. Hold more honor than a promise. Be something greater than a threat. Can love be conformation? That it exists simply because you say it does. If that’s the case, then don’t say love is a road. It cannot lead you to a place you don’t feel exists. Instead, say love is the exit from the maze. This way, if you have no idea where you’re going, you’ll find comfort knowing that you aren’t truly lost.

And you never were to begin with.

a picture of a book with sparkles of light shooting out from the pages as the book is opened
thoughts

I Have a Question for You…

There’s this saying, it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

Yet, with you, this doesn’t apply. You’re one of those people who always has something to say. There’s wisdom in your words. You say those quotes people love to put on their Instagram. You speak in such a way that even the world slows down a bit. It’s like the wind is trying to get caught in your voice. Even the sun shines brighter, wanting to give you all the spotlight. The world makes way so you can have your moment.  

Don’t be silent. Your words must be louder than your actions. You must speak because you’re the only one being listened to. So why don’t you speak the truth?

When it comes to convictions, whatever you believe in, you must know what to say. If the truth isn’t heard, how can you expect any action to follow? So what is your truth? You must have one if you want to survive this world. When you die, what is it that you want to leave behind? You care about a legacy, right? Then what story are you trying to tell?   

It always starts with a question: Who are you?

The words beat into your head. Creates a migraine you cannot shake. It’s like a virus how it seeps into your skin. Makes a home in the spaces that’s always out of reach. Imagine it as an itch you cannot scratch, even as you peel the skin trying to find it. The scars you leave behind is how it mocks you. It’s as desperate as you for an answer.

So what do you say to it? How do you say nothing without feeling like you’ve betrayed yourself? You run away from a mirror as if the reflection is a monster. And maybe it is. Maybe the reason you cannot answer the question is because you’re afraid of what you might say.

Some questions demand hard truths.

For instance, did you know the body can be a cage to the soul? The heartbeat is the sound of someone banging on a steel door. You want someone to find you. Sadly, self-discovery in the place where you’re lost isn’t likely. You’ve long forgotten where it was you were trying to go. Did you ever know the purpose of a road? That you must create one. This means, you must know the destination. It’s impossible to find what you’re not searching for.   

How foolish of you to think you could. You want a prison to escape itself. How do you demand what doesn’t make sense in any context?

This question is always presented as an interrogation. You committed the crime of being someone you wasn’t. The universe has a strong need to expose liars. Do you think there’s power in your name? Eventually, you’ll be tested on that belief. Are you someone of worth? Watch as everything crumbles all around you. Not many can build kingdoms from ruins. So answer this: what do you have when you lose everything? What you say should humble you.

You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. You’ll never be for someone else what you aren’t for yourself.

A friend you never were. How can you be a diary of someone else’s secrets? I’ve read every chapter of the book you’ve written. No one has ever called you trustworthy. The words printed in your handwriting is sloppy as if you’ve rushed to finish it. Did you think the reader would do the same? Skim through each page, ignore the grammar mistakes, and not ask questions when the plot makes no sense. I see now what has you afraid. The truth is, you have nothing to say because there’s no story worth telling.

Is there?

A dark greyish picture of a mirror reflecting a tree.
thoughts

Beware the Mirror: the Not-Hidden Message Written on its Surface

When I see you, I believe it’s a mirror. You become a reflection of what I want to appear. Or should I say, not myself, as of now. This moment, like every moment before, I want to forget.

If only, I could see a memory. Then, I can make it real. Watch it become reality so I can change it. Or, give it a new name as if to say, ‘I own this thing too.’

There is no smoke & mirrors. Everything about this image is real. What isn’t, however, is my perception. Like, how I can look into a mirror and see myself reflected back. This is really me, except it isn’t. What I see is light refracted through the glass and my eyes making sense of it.

Science says, this is how a mirror works. And I think that’s right until I look into one. Then, I remember what Nietzsche said about staring into an abyss. A demon always glares back with my own eyes. See? No one has to teach a body how to despise itself.

It’s like the mirror reveals the worst in people. Brings out what’s hidden in darkness into light so it cannot be avoided. You ever try running away from the sun? Even a shadow can’t hide behind something when light discovers it. The same goes for the mirror. It says, I cannot hide from myself forever.

A mirror taught me about self-hate and its consequences. How you can love yourself a little less, the longer you stare into it. Find flaws you never cared about before. Secrets exposed for only you to see. It seems that light is just as blinding as the dark.

It’s like a mirror is a vacuum into another world. Maybe what I see isn’t a reflection, but my soul being pushed out into someone else. It works like love but more sinister.

Self-hate had me searching for reasons to hate myself. A mirror was my way to seek answers. Saw myself instead, as if this was the confirmation I wanted. And soon, the question of who am I became why aren’t I.

Or maybe, I’m the mirror. Broken, I can fix. Yet, will always see cracks on its surface. Funny how something as tough as glass can shatter so easy. You’re likely to cut your fingers putting its shards back together. It’s like the mirror says, ‘healing can hurt the skin as much as the wound inflicted upon it.’

A fixed mirror never works the way it did. It’s known that light refracts differently on cracked surfaces. Images become distorted as if trying to maintain its shape despite the fractures. Eventually, we look a little less human.

Then, we start acting like it. Become the monsters the mirror reveals us as. That’s why, we look for ourselves in other people. How do we call this love when no good comes from it? The heart beats and is beaten into submission. Why I’d rather see myself in a shattered mirror.

I hated my reflection so much, I punched the glass to break it. When only my knuckles bled, I realized how hate can turn into pain. And how human evolution is best seen in ways we destroy ourselves. Just look how quickly arrows and stones turned into guns and bombs. And how quickly I went from being outraged to enraged. 

And how I blamed you.

I mean, you should’ve told me about mirrors. About the bad luck of breaking one. That it curses you longer than a measly seven years. That the walls become mirrors themselves when you scream at them. That an echo is nothing more than a reflection of sound. That my own voice would get tired of speaking when it’s not being listened to.

You should’ve told me about myself. About where I fit into this world. That I do fit in this world. That I’m not a puzzle piece & that it’s okay if I don’t fit correctly into the ‘right spot’. That there aren’t any right spots. That there isn’t a puzzle or a shattered mirror. That glass, no matter how small, reflects an image as its seen. That I’m tougher than glass. That a reflection doesn’t reflect a lack of soul searching. You should’ve told me something.

Or maybe, I should apologize. Say sorry for not listening when you tried to speak.

a picture of a planet exploding. the planet is surrounded by fire.
thoughts

Scapegoat: the Sky is the Reason for All our Sins

I hate when we preach for non-violence. And no, it’s not because I’m against peace. In fact, it’s the opposite. I crave for peace like the memory of a dream once I wake up in the morning.

What I hate is the exaggeration of it. Nothing about world peace is deliberate. It’s like a New Year’s Resolution: a goal that we don’t actively pursue.

We want to save the world while we’re destroying it. Is this arrogance or stupidity? Maybe both. But does it matter? My beliefs of heroes and villains are dead.

They’ve died on populated cities turned battlefields. I’ve long buried my hopes of peace in the same graveyards where we bury innocent victims of war.

This is who we are. Human nature is ruled by greed. We’ll scorch the grass and dirt in search for gold. The green of money means more than the green of Earth.

So why do we act like we hate chaos? We love fire as long as it’s not too close. Water is cool until it becomes too deep. What I’m saying is, we love violence.

It’s a spectacle. A way of coming to age. To be man. To be God. To be anything other than what we are now. What death brings is change. We cannot rebuild anything that isn’t already in ruins.

Think about it: the world is burning. Literally, burning. And I’m not just talking about global warning. Or, the onslaught of destruction that spreads across this nation and outside it.  

Even California is being plagued with fire. It’s like the prettier the green, the brighter it burns. All this devastation and we’re still looking for the scapegoat.

So let’s blame the sun. How dare it shine without giving us warning? Or even asking for our permission? What makes us human is how we can take a thing and make it do what we want it to.

Even if it goes against its own design.

Instead of spending billions of dollars on solar energy, we’ll build weather machines. That way, we can make the sky do as we please. Who cares if we abuse the o-zone layer?

The rain aren’t tears. Look at the clouds too long and you’ll never see a face. Not that we’d care if the sky can elicit genuine emotion. Science says, the sky is only blue because air scatters particles to make it that way. So blame the air too.

Surely, the earth has no feelings.

But let’s say the earth can somehow voice its depression. Foolish, I know. Still, let’s just for shits and giggles believe the earth should be taken care of.

We cannot be blamed for its suffering.

There’s always a scapegoat to be found. Just point to the sky and blame the clouds for its pollution. Yes you, Cumulonimbus cloud, how dare you turn a darker shade? Not even the sky owns the right to love its color.

Mother Earth or Mother Nature—still a woman. Emotions are a biological flaw and not what makes something human. It’s always that time of the month. Say women are prone to be too emotional and then we can ignore it.

But have you heard the saying, Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. The irony of that particular quote. To see all this fire and not think “yeah, maybe there’s some truth to it.”

Still, there’s no reason to fear. We’ve learned to tame fire like a dog domesticated of its animal. As soon as we put fire into a gun, we craved war. It’s stupid to fear what cannot kill us, right?

That is, until that gun is pointed into our own heads. Now, we want to control the gun and not the hand holding it. It’s similar to what we want of the sky. To control its air and not the pollution we created.

thoughts

No More Gardens of Eden: A Warning to Anyone Telling us this Food is Forbidden

There’s a war happening. Starvation is the motive and food has become weapons of mass destruction. And this is all your doing. You’ve created world hunger. In fact, you’re the one who designed the blueprint. You feel nothing from those who died. Instead, you build slaughterhouses on their graves.

We know all this, and yet somehow, we feel sorry for you.

When we were children, we truly believed you knew everything. I mean, how could we think otherwise? Who you were: the adults, the politicians, the parents, the teachers, the authority figures. So when we asked questions about the world, why did this evoke fear and anger?

The world is a big kitchen. You built its fridge, the cabinets, stove, and microwave. And even though they’re faulty and outdated, I should tell you we’re grateful. Truly, we are. That’s why, all we ask to know is how these appliances function. Through understanding, we can learn how to fix them. So they’ll be as good for us as they once were for you. Yet for some reason, you don’t tell us.

As if the bolts and screws are these delicate things we can’t handle. That our hands are too small to pick up the tool box where you’ve “conveniently” put on the highest shelf to be out of reach. You tell us, the world works the way it does because that’s how it is. What you really mean to say: the world can only work the way we say it does. And how is this fair?

Our childlike eyes must give you the impression of blissful ignorance. That we look at this stove and fridge as a toy. Like the way children look at pots and pans as drumsticks on rough surfaces. But as we’re taught—we can learn from suffering. When hungry, we learned the usage of pots and pans is to give us food.

You don’t think we can comprehend the reason of things? Even with little knowledge of a kitchen, we know it’s purpose is to prepare food. And the world works the same way. It’s here to give us a place to live. We’re alive simply because the world exists. So why won’t you tell us how this works?

I think you’re afraid to tell us. Because then, we’d know that you have no idea. The world is what it is because you’ve made it that way. The truth is, you need the world to act this way because you know no other way to live.

This is how it was when you were young and it must remain. Your fear is irrational and change turns into a phobia. For you, handing us the tools is like putting the crown on our heads. It’s giving us the keys to everything that cages you. What you’re afraid of is us.

Yet, can we blame you? Sacrificing power must be hard. You’ve found this kitchen and are expected to hand it over to someone fortunate enough to already have cooked food. If we told you what we wanted to do, would it help calm you? What we want to do is save the world. We believe nobody should be hungry. There’s enough for everybody and even leftovers in the fridge.

So why is there starving people? Those that live outside this house do matter. In fact, they’ve helped gathered the wood and brick to build this kitchen. And even if they didn’t, who are you to own this? This kitchen was preparing food before you became the chef. So you must hand over what belongs to us too.

Instead, you’ve placed menus on voting ballots. Read directions of a cookbook as a rousing speech. Had brunches and picnics as a celebration of a rebellion that can never be revolutionary. Eradicating world hunger was never your agenda. You understood: only hungry people brought food. It’s always been about making money.

Age doesn’t breed wisdom, but arrogance. You care for no ceasefire to a war fought by others that only you’ve benefitted from. This kitchen is only sanctuary as this house is the border walls to the war outside. And we see right through your façade.

So you’re not invited to the cookout—we’ve crossed your name from the guest list. If we have to do this without you, we will. We have. We’ve turned this kitchen into an open café with no price of admission.

And in case you see the “we’re open” sign on the front doorway, just know you won’t be welcomed here.

thoughts

Political Elections & The End of the World as We Voted

Election Day is the Worst Day Ever

I cannot wait until the midterm elections are over. At this point, I’m annoyed by the whole concept of voting. It’s not like we actually care about politics anyways.

Voting is like picking teams for basketball in elementary school gym class. We’re most concerned about being on the popular team that we ignore if the captain is an asshole.

This mindset that voting in the midterm elections is a life-or-death situation is fallacious. Voting for democratic senators who do nothing for us won’t stop the Book of Revelations from becoming reality. So why continue to use fear mongering tactics to get people to take part in the midterm elections?

The Definition of Insanity

I remember the 2016 presidential election just like everyone else. The feeling that we were only one congressional hearing away from cotton-picking will never be forgotten. And yet, are we really surprised at the outcome of that election? Regardless of the masks and disguises America wears to hide its bigotry, we’ve seen its true face. It’s old, white, wrinkly, misogynistic, racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, and everything-else-but-white-man-phobic face.

So why are we acting this way?

Guilt-tripping and threatening people to vote in the 2016 presidential election didn’t sway people to vote. So why would repeating these actions in the midterm elections be any different?

You should know a little fact: HILARY CLINTON DID WIN THE 2016 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION!!! This means that people did, in fact, vote.

Let’s be clear of three important things: Hilary Clinton won the popular vote (even without 53% of white women’s support); over two million more people voted for Hilary Clinton than Donald Trump; Hilary Clinton has more votes than all other losing presidential candidates. And she still lost.

So with all that said, what’s the point in voting when the Electoral College’s decision means more than the popular vote?

Let me clarify one thing

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t vote. I do think voting is important in getting our voices heard. Issue voting in the midterm elections is a better alternative than simply supporting a democratic politician.

Still, voting cannot be the best (and only) method of getting results in our favor. To me, voting for candidates that are fighting for us is the smart way to go about fixing this mess of a government. We should care for people’s issues with the same passion that we have for their votes. Remember, real life people are dying because of real life policies made by REAL LIFE politicians.

 Surely, we’re smart enough to know that voting for the “lesser evil” will never bring about change that is for the good, right?

In a war between two corrupted political parties, I don’t want to pick a side. It’s like asking me if I want to die by burning alive or being thrown in a pool with hungry sharks. Neither option is good and we don’t have to choose either option. It makes no sense that my life rests in the hands of Democrats who care more about my vote than my well-being. Even worse, they don’t even care about my vote more than the support of right-wingers.

Nonvoters aren’t to Blame for the Government’s Mistakes

We should care about people despite their votes. Understanding why someone chooses not to vote will only help in the long run.

People aren’t doing great. Ignore the illusion of social media that makes it seem everyone is rich and happy. Don’t believe the government when they throw out facts and statistics to prove how great they are. Just because the economy is good doesn’t mean less poverty. So demanding poor people to vote to alleviate everyone else’s suffering is incredibly selfish. In fact, the more I learn about capitalism, the more I understand why people aren’t eager to vote.

However, if you do only care about people’s votes then you should act like it. The government has taken extra measures to restrict people’s rights to votes for some time now. Even with our right to vote, we should know as black people that our rights aren’t fully protected. Yet, I haven’t heard much fuss about any of these restrictions. Instead, the media is still talking about the Russian hacking as if the American government isn’t intervening in the midterm elections.

The Orange Devil with the Blonde Toupee

Donald Trump has truly brought the worst out of everyone. And I’m not just talking about Republicans. (Even though, they’re lost their minds.) The Alt-Right has finally succeeded in retaking control of the government. Not that I’m stupid enough to think they ever lost control of it to begin with. It’s just not hidden anymore.

If I wasn’t black, I’d say our government is trash. However, I do find relief that the bigotry plaguing America has finally bubbled up to the surface. If only this epidemic was bad enough that we focused on finding its cure. Instead, we force ourselves to keep feeding into the disease like it’s not going to kill us anyways.

The Revolution Must be Vaccinated

You’re not being entirely truthful if you believe voting will fix everything. To say that voting is the only way for our voices to be heard isn’t only inaccurate but historically incorrect. Organizing and educating ourselves on government issues are as important as voting. The more we know, the better off we’ll be. We must learn what neoliberalism, imperialism, capitalism, and fascism is and how they work. This way, we won’t keep being treated like pawns by the American government.

We must stop thinking that voting is the magical vaccine that will end the zombie apocalypse, especially when the government is causing the disease.

Despite the government’s role, I believe that people still have the power. And that power doesn’t come solely from a ballot box. Voting for a politician that fits our needs is where true power comes from. This is why I wish we were power hungry, instead of being overpowered by fear.

Let me by clear: I don’t hate the Russians for what they did. (Well, I don’t hate them as much as Democrats do.) I’m indifferent when it comes to this election hacking controversy that’s been all over the news.

America has been stripping away black people’s right to vote ever since we were given it.

Not only that, but I’d say what happened in the 2016 election was karma rearing its ugly head. After all, America has hacked into elections across the world. Now, all of a sudden, they want to say meddling into elections is a problem.

Why is it that everyone else is always suffering because of rich white men’s decisions?

The American Pipe Dream

Hasn’t America warned us not to put all our faith in politicians? This is not what Martin Luther King died for. And you cannot tell me otherwise. In fact, Malcolm X told us how we should use our voices and votes.

I refuse to believe our ancestors fought and died so we could vote to put old white people in charge of things.

I refuse to believe that Harriet Tubman was taking negroes to FREEDOM just so we can put old white people in leadership positions.

I refuse to believe that the Black Panther Party was packing heat and bringing war to the Ku Klux Klan for old white people to use our votes for their own gains.

Despite what black people at these Trap Brunches say, I don’t believe voting alone will take us to the Promised Land.

Is it wrong that I want my vote to matter? Like, really matter? And not simply vote just to spite Republicans.

I want to vote for senators that are actually going to help the people that are voting for them.

I want to empower politicians that aren’t money hungry and war mongering.

I want a congress that’s ran by the people and actually for the people.

I know this is a pipe dream. This sort of reality can never exist as long as politics are the way they are. A democrat throwing bread crumbs on the floor is the best I can hope for to get fed. It’s better to be a dog than starving at the kitchen table, right?

WRONG!

The right to vote is a reason to be depressed. One vote means one more person to suffer and die for the benefit of old ass white people. For this reason, I wonder if voting in the midterm elections or any other election makes me any better than the president I despise?