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All killer no filler


I am beginning to understand that the model set before me may not be what I am designed for. Of course I desire the familiarity of the story; two strategically placed figures of authority, perfectly in love playing their roles, a brother a sister a dog a trampoline. School, work, play, structure, I’m fine thanks how are you. Its all so planned and reliable. But tell me how I am to recreate this suburban mona lisa story when I know that little girls in red dresses with nothing but a number safety pinned to their dresses are being bought and sold with a menu of services to monsters to use them for $20?? Would I rather aim to deal with my own rebellious teenagers or seek justice for the 12 yr old commodities being used over 100 times a day? Marked up more valuable than a one time use drug? Knowledge is an arcade fire. My self constructed reality of the world has been wiped clean like grafitti art ghosts in the night. Anything I have written or said before this point was from a different person. Goals of comfort, ownership, and ignorance are gone. My realization of the greater metanarrative becomes more and more clear. I am just a part of this story and I am not the author producer or director. Of course I still hope for the pawns of tradition. Joys found in the antiques of humanity. Companionship, a place to call home, a vacation here and there. But I cannot progress from this point absorbed in my own to-do lists without paying proper attention to justice and the preservation of humanity and these things called ethics and morals. Three cheers to resetting the compass of life. Bon voyage