Happy Dwelling

People don’t like facing the truth, and you don’t have to go through the trouble of trying to show them.

I don’t want to live in this house anymore.

[Insert Teen Angst Phase Here]

Have a little madness, be indignant when people are treating you wrong. When echoes don’t ring true in the chambers of your heart.

You are human! Also part of a recording I was listening on turntable.fm about a day ago.

There’s that feeling that always frightens me, like tsunami wave–I see it about to crash over me.

It’s the feeling that people are doing something completly wrong, morally wrong, and yet they strain the purity of something (their soul perhaps), straining by forcing themselves to believe that wrong is ultimately a nonsequitur.

I guess, everything is fair, everything goes, when you’re dealing with strangers. Especially while there’s hardly enough room for care to weigh the matter.

Who are you to them? Who is she to me? Who is he to me?

Nothing. But ultimately, in some small fraction of a voice, we hear a tone that buzzes to us softly: HUMAN.

A truth so often overlooked and easily forgotten.

Nonetheless, our ways and means to attain any closer to gratification takes the crowning rein when it comes to personal conduct. A happy dwelling.  If only for an hour. It’s what gives and takes and ultimate bearing upon the chiseled truth, that we can’t have it all. Even if we tried.

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