Do you think you’d know if you were a complete prick?
I’m not sure. It’s a common belief to think you’re a “good” person.
For awhile now I don’t bother with labels since they’re just painkillers or knives. But if you had a gunpoint question about it then yeah, I’m not a good person, nor a bad person. Neither. Just am. Sometimes I call myself a prick because it’s funny. Maybe I am a bad person.
What’s a good person to you? Obviously the one that satiates all your needs.
Really good people make me uncomfortable, whether because they serve as reminder of a distance unfulfilled, or because their contrast lights up my twistedness.
If you get psyop’d deep enough then you’d hold your flubby moral code around all the time even if it means it’ll mine your insides out.
Human nature is always an amusing discussion because there is no absolute answer, depending on your optimism. Maybe we can change our unconsciousness tendency for the better.
Though when you ever have to decide who gets to eat next, such noble aspirations are forgotten.
It’s weird sometimes, being on the outside looking in. But at least you understand, however demented it’ll be.
What would you do with more power? Will the darker parts of you bumper out onto the show?
It’s nice to hold that pendant: that deep down we’re all disposed toward Good despite circumstances.
Kindness is just easier, that’s all. It’s not some virtue. It just makes sense.
Honestly? I’m jealous of those who can be boorish. Because it means they at least stand for something, or have enough gumption to fight stupid fights or needed fights for their forgone conclusion.
In the same vein it isn’t the most enviable position: tangling oneself with others sounds like a big bother.
Yeah, not like there’s anything waiting out there to fight for, if you are the lost roaming. Well, not on a passionate basis, but more of a cold-hearted reality basis there surely is. How convenient all these words appear amongst the meals I had today!
Here is the stake in the sand:
It’s all different now. Here’s the new beginning. Farewell old world!
Now, you may be wondering, what awaits in this world? Well, anything beyond your imagination for one, but more concretely it’s a barren place. There are no more voices.
What good were all those voices prior anyway? Not like words changed anything. Only lines in the sands did.
Maybe in this world I’ll be a real prick about everything and anything. Maybe I’ll dust off the old Pride and fashion a vehicle out of it. Or maybe steal some pieces toward some imperative.
Motivation is hard to come by when you no longer exist.
I guess the trick is to inhabit the motivated one since you no longer exist.
See, sometimes you have to draw your own line in the sand, because no one else will.