You’re standing still there on the kitchen, with a bunch of raw vegetables and a set of knives in front of you. You feel like using your phone to play some of those old albums from Death Cab for Cutie, so you reproduce whatever song of them you keep in your memory card and place your phone inside a cup for the sound to resound in the room.
You take the lettuce and carrots, you cut them and you leave them disinfecting in a bowl of water. You then take a piece of celery and cucumber and wash it under the flowing stream of water from the sink, applying soap with your bare wet hands.
Meanwhile, A Movie Script Ending is playing in the background. And you think to yourself how peaceful and quiet the city can get at 12 am as you’re cutting everything in perfect prism shapes. And then you realise everything smells like plants, and you’re nourished, you’re safe and sound beneath the roof of you’re so familiar kitchen, and you’re placing everything you just cut in different sized containers.
And you wonder why would you get anxious? Why would you feel embarrassed for being the person you are?, not complying to the social rules and getting no recognition, but prejudice for deciding to step out. Why would we feel uncomfortable with our selves? why are we so lucky yet so doomed to be in discontent? And why is everyone so angry? Why are you angry? Why are you bored when everything around has such potential to be beautiful?
And then it hits you, cutting vegetables is such an amazing activity.
I have no sympathy for the living."
It ain’t hard to make new friends,
is just hard to find someone you feel comfortable with being yourself
and him not thinking you’re fucking crazy.
And I have this huge problem
where I find someone who meets the requirements for being a great friend,
and start unconsciously acting as if I was testing them.
Like, how much insanity can you put up with?
No wonder nobody takes me seriously, man.