It was the eleventh day of the month twice after January, twenty-three minutes, scratch that, twenty-two minutes to the hour after five in the afternoon with some uncertain amount of seconds having passed when I first realized: bubbles are evil.
Manipulative, selfish, little creatures, bubbles are. And I'm not even talking about the searing pain, twice the heat of a thousand white hot suns, when the little devils pop in your eye.
No, I've always thought of them as a protection from the outside world, a shield. But if you go on thinking like that, they'll return the favor by locking you in instead.
That's why you and I will never be important.
The inside babies the prideful. It praises the selfish, the rationalizers, the pretenders, the judgemental, and most of all, the liars.
And the outside lets loose the dirty, the sinners, the the rationalizers, the work-a-holics, and the reckless. At least they're honest about it.
So it doesn't matter who's life you save, or the amount of money you make, or the quality of your latest blog post. You will never make it to the hall of fame.
It's all because you're inside. You're the pride being babied, and so am I.
But who said you couldn't pop the bubble? The splash might sting a little, but no one ever got anywhere without a little opposition.
No comments:
Post a Comment