What Was This For

Was this for fun, a tongue in check representation of the mass market futility of production and packaging in this overtly commercial culture that places profit over people and life itself? Just another attempt to write the perfect paragraph> Is that what I've been attempting over the years? Is that the dream? But dreams are so fragmented sometimes, even remembering them can be more confusing than it's worth. High blood pressure complains down my arm. I had a dream, he said. Repeatedly. Mountaintops and subway cars. Planes, trains, and opportunities missed. A crazy dream, but more stupid than crazy, but whatever. Nobody cared except for one person who cared ambivalently or partially or inconsistently or out of guilt or for selfish or mixed reasons, but not just to care. Feeling so alone in this world that even the dreams regurgitate abandonment and confusion over why it keeps happening again and again and from birth. And so suddenly. Why do I keep trusting people. Why don't I see it coming. I understand how weaker minds without a sense of self or write and wrong and some delusional belief in some reward after death can become serial killers or mass murderers. The human mind is so stupid at this stage of development. I wonder why I continue to care. No less feel good and happy. Narf :)