《Stuff I write.》Help Yourself
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The dream started with me in a bathrobe, nothing too fancy, but I found himself sitting on a park bench alone. I looked around when I noticed a figure with a ginger beard, and not a hair on top of their head. The figure was wearing a bathrobe too, except theirs was styled after a tuxedo. The figure turned to him and said, “Why do you always fight? You are all my creation, did I go wrong? Probably. This technological age is pretty new, and you are still getting used to it. You were such an aggressive little tyke, fighting even yourself, just to have an extra potato or two, Doesn’t that sound a little petty? That was ages ago, and you still haven’t understood what I’ve been trying to tell you. I may not be the best father, heck, I thought you wouldn’t be beating yourself up over your body image. So what if you’re fat, thin, have darker skin, have lighter skin, or even have a different gender than you started with. You are you, no matter your look. I am tired, I have been watching the same squabbles with yourself over the same things, and it is almost always about how you look or a misunderstanding. You constantly try to better yourself, and I love that about you, but at the same time, you stop any real progress from happening because what? You wanted a few extra bucks? You live perfectly fine without. You should be happy for what is, not upset that you didn’t get your way. It pains me most to see you mistreat yourself. Your all beautiful, intelligent beings, but you don’t act like it sometimes. You are millenia old, stop making the same mistakes over and over again, you should have learned by now. Moods pass and come, or as you call it, nations. These come and go. I am not saying any one is right, but none of you are entirely wrong. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be happy, but burying them only makes them fester, and angry. Please, I have seen you go through this too much for me to buy the excuse, “I am not like them.” Yes, yes you are. You are like every one who has lived and died, from the smallest microbe, to the grandest being, you are you, stop pretending you’re not and help yourself, please, it hurts me watching you tear yourself apart like this.”
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written thoughts
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