Winning thoughts from a lost mind

lauraolin:

Last Thursday, my organization, People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction, orchestrated an overwhelming show of force around the globe.

At precisely 9 in the morning, working with focus and stealth, our entire membership succeeded in simultaneously beheading no one. At 10, Phase II began, during which our entire membership did not force a single man to suck another man’s penis. Also, none of us blew himself/herself up in a crowded public place. No civilians were literally turned inside out via our powerful explosives. In addition, at 11, in Phase III, zero (0) planes were flown into buildings.

During Phase IV, just after lunch, we were able to avoid bulldozing a single home. Furthermore, we set, on roads in every city, in every nation in the world, a total of zero (0) roadside bombs which, not being there, did not subsequently explode, killing/maiming a total of nobody. No bombs were dropped, during the lazy afternoon hours, on crowded civilian neighborhoods, from which, it was observed, no post-bomb momentary silences were then heard. These silences were, in all cases, followed by no unimaginable, grief-stricken bellows of rage, and/or frantic imprecations to a deity. No sleeping baby was awakened from an afternoon nap by the sudden collapse and/or bursting into flame of his/her domicile during Phase IV.

In the late afternoon (Phase V), our membership focused on using zero (0) trained dogs to bite/terrorize naked prisoners. In addition, no stun guns, rubber batons, rubber bullets, tear gas, or bullets were used, by our membership, on any individual, anywhere in the world. No one was forced to don a hood. No teeth were pulled in darkened rooms. No drills were used on human flesh, nor were whips or flames. No one was reduced to hysterical tears via a series of blows to the head or body, by us. Our membership, while casting no racial or ethnic aspersions, skillfully continued not to rape, gang-rape, or sexually assault a single person. On the contrary, during this late-afternoon phase, many of our membership flirted happily and even consoled, in a nonsexual way, individuals to whom they were attracted, putting aside their sexual feelings out of a sudden welling of empathy.

As night fell, our membership harbored no secret feelings of rage or, if they did, meditated, or discussed these feelings with a friend until such time as the feelings abated, or were understood to be symptomatic of some deeper sadness.

It should be noted that, in addition to the above-listed and planned activities completed by our members, a number of unplanned activities were completed by part-time members, or even nonmembers.

In London, a bitter homophobic grandfather whose grocery bag broke open gave a loaf of very nice bread to a balding gay man who stopped to help him. A stooped toothless woman in Tokyo pounded her head with her hands, tired beyond belief of her lifelong feelings of anger and negativity, and silently prayed that her heart would somehow be opened before it was too late. In Syracuse, New York, holding the broken body of his kitten, a man felt a sudden kinship for all small things.

Even declared nonmembers, it would appear, responded to our efforts. In Chitral, Pakistan, for example, a recent al-Qaida recruit remembered the way an elderly American tourist once made an encouraging remark about his English, and how, as she made the remark, she touched his arm, like a mother. In Gaza, an Israeli soldier and a young Palestinian, just before averting their eyes and muttering insults in their respective languages, exchanged a brief look of mutual shame.

Who are we? A word about our membership.

Since the world began, we have gone about our work quietly, resisting the urge to generalize, valuing the individual over the group, the actual over the conceptual, the inherent sweetness of the present moment over the theoretically peaceful future to be obtained via murder. Many of us have trouble sleeping and lie awake at night, worrying about something catastrophic befalling someone we love. We rise in the morning with no plans to convert anyone via beating, humiliation, or invasion. To tell the truth, we are tired. We work. We would just like some peace and quiet. When wrong, we think about it awhile, then apologize. We stand under awnings during urban thunderstorms, moved to thoughtfulness by the troubled, umbrella-tinged faces rushing by. In moments of crisis, we pat one another awkwardly on the back, mumbling shy truisms. Rushing to an appointment, remembering a friend who has passed away, our eyes well with tears and we think: Well, my God, he could be a pain, but still I’m lucky to have known him.

This is PRKA. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say: We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure, and prevail.

Join us.

Resistance is futile.

This is why humans are great.

NOTE: I used very open-ended terms like “friends”, and “playmates”, because I truly believe that Tinder can be used for more than just hookups.

Also, in unrelated news, I received a new match notification right as I wrote that last line, up there^. Fate? Maybe not. Poetic? You bet.

Okay, go read stuff now.

———

Everybody’s talking about Tinder nowadays. Even if they don’t use it (I see you Android users), they still certainly have an opinion about it. And I’m not saying that their opinions are wrong, though some of them are; I just think that people aren’t really seeing the bigger picture here: Tinder has effectively created a way to make “friends” based purely on location, because let’s face it – people everywhere are pretty much the same when you’re “in need”. 

This little (perpetually crashing, but in the most lovable kind of way) startup app blends just the right amount of anonymity, real-life information, and mutual flattery in such a way that you can’t help but be intrigued. Effectively, this is a “friend” making app for those of us with attention spans too short to fill out legitimate profiles, which, let’s be real, is most of us.

This mutual flattery society is based on the premise that people want to meet others, and that said people will also be smart enough to spot fake profiles, as well as honest enough not to make them. The last two assumptions are admittedly less sure than the first, but it’s just too damn fun looking at all the people who might find you attractive, to worry about being “catfished”. That is to say, Tinder has found a way to enable people to socialize beyond the confines of their own personal social circles, whilst also instilling in them a sense of security because they are allowed limited access to their potential “playmate” before even committing to finding him/her attractive.

It’s brilliant if you think about it: people want human interaction, but they’re too lazy to go out. Chatrooms are creepy and way too nineties, dating websites are just sad at our age, Facebook has way too many options with way too much information (and far too much uncertainty), and frat parties - well as much fun as they may be, they’re a veritable shit show. There’s a high probability that everyone there is too sweaty to look even moderately attractive, not to mention the fact that you’re so drunk you’d even look ridiculous in a Harlem Shake video.

Tinder, however, is great. Any matches you get make you feel warm and tingly inside because you know that person found you attractive. You can talk as much or as little as you want before either getting their number or blocking their lying underage ass (it’s actually shocking how many middle/high school girls think that guys won’t notice that they’re not even old enough to drive, let alone vote, or drink), and it’s a great way to blow off steam, whether you’re trolling someone you never have and never will meet, or legitimately making an effort to socialize with people who might have something new to offer you.

Is it creepy? Maybe (read: yes). Is it potentially unsafe? To someone who doesn’t think, maybe, but I have faith that anyone reading this is smart enough to get out alive. Is it socially acceptable? Jury’s still out, but I personally think that if it isn’t, it should be. Is it fun? OH MY GAWD, YES. You may have some trepidation at first, but you’ll soon learn that mutual friends can be your best friends, and that mutual interests could be due to nothing more than a stray click or a phase they went through in eighth grade. But regardless, it will be a learning experience socially, technologically, and personally – and that’s not an exaggeration.

I Tinder. Do you?

This status is dedicated to my one, true Valentine. 

You’re always there for me, and you never leave me bored. You constantly teach me new things, and no one knows how to make me think and challenge myself the same way that you do. 

And the fact of the matter is, I always feel like no matter how much we may interact, at the end of the day I’ve only scratched the surface, seen maybe one millionth of who you are - and that intrigues me. I learn something new about you everyday, and you constantly leave me wanting more. 

And though others try to tell me about all the things in your past, who you’ve been with before me, and how hard it will be to make this relationship work, I don’t care what they say, because you’re the right one for me.

So today, please say you’ll be mine.

Tumblr, be my Valentine?

I have become increasingly obsessed with my image. It is not a completely new worry for me, but I find that as I have gotten older and seen more of the world and the people in it, I care more about how I am perceived. Is this shallow? Perhaps, but it is the truth, and there is no point in running from that which I would rather fight.

That is to say, just because I have issues with how I may be viewed by others, does not mean that I can’t use my heightened sense of self-awareness to my advantage. In fact, I think I have been given a rare gift. Far too many people go through life, unaware of the world around them, and without reflecting on that which has created them. I am sad to say that although I cannot cure the world of its blissful ignorance, I can attempt to cure myself. Or maybe I’ve already been cured and I am currently enjoying the salvation from this brutal disease. Or perhaps I was simply vaccinated at an early enough age and never succumbed to the disease in the same way which many of my peers have. Or perhaps there is no disease and no cure, and we are all equally self-aware, but only the few lonely people such as myself feel the need to trumpet such thoughts.

It doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day all I can affect is myself, regardless of how others may or may not be. All I know is that the world is constantly shifting, but for some reason, in a life where the tides constantly ebb and flow, and nothing is constant, I am, despite my better efforts unchanging. Or at least I appear to be, to those around me. I cannot help but feel that unlike those facets of myself who have come before me as I am now, I have lost the ability to change how I am viewed by the world.

Where everyone is constantly changing, evolving, and adapting, I am stagnant, doomed to wallow in the cesspool of my own shortcomings which I so brashly reveal to the world with every instance in which I open my mouth or allow myself to be seen by others. Or perhaps others have seen as I have changed, and it is I who still view myself as the same child who first set foot into the halls of my mind. I do not know. All I know is that there is an issue of perception, and I know not with whom it lies.

Did my antics during my past days beget condescension from others? Did my behavior throughout those pivotal first few days cement who I would be for the next four years in the eyes of everyone who first met me then? Or am I the only one who still sees the boy who arrived here, and not the man who currently occupies his spot?

I don’t know, because I receive conflicting answers, often from the same people, subject to when I might ask, myself being one of those conflicted individuals. I am inclined to believe that I have furthered myself since I matriculated here, but there is no empirical proof to corroborate that. In fact, there is situational proof to suggest that I have not in fact advanced as a human being since my arrival here, but rather have regressed in my childish insolence and need for attention. But then again, who’s to say that this childish insecurity and need for attention wont provide me with the skills I need to self-reflect and better myself in the long run?

I am confused, because I am told that humans are perpetually evolving creatures, yet acts I committed half a year ago are the same ones that I am currently judged by, even by those who did not witness them and this saddens me. It saddens me that I am judged based on the hearsay of others and it saddens me that I have not been deemed someone who has bettered himself, as I am led to believe is the point of life and progression. It also saddens me that the hearsay is correct, but what saddens me most is that individuals do not realize that regardless of who I was then, I am me now, and that is who I am.

Who I am is not who I was, and who I am is undoubtedly not who I will be, but as long as I am treated as I was in the past, or how I will be in the future, there is no room for me to exist in the present, and that worries me. If there is no room for me now, where should I go until there is room for my growth? Or is my growth simply a manifestation of what I want to believe I see in myself, when in reality there is nothing to see? Am I simply staring at static on a television and letting my mind create pictures? Or am I staring at still photograph and seeing an unfinished Picasso? I do not know, and I do not claim to know, which is what sets me apart from others. I am not comfortable or content in my not knowing, but I do acknowledge it. And acknowledgment is the first step, or so I am told.

I acknowledge myself, and I acknowledge others. But who will acknowledge me? And which me will they acknowledge?

inmybattledress:

msilovecharlie:

inmybattledress:

inmybattledress:

So I had an idea inspired by all those “if you reblog” posts going around here. If you reblog this until the 22nd of January, I will go through all the people who reblogged this and find your soul-mate. Then, when you know who it is, you can talk and be friends.

Come on, this is seriously a good idea.

… Do we have to reblog everyday until the 22nd or just a one time kinda deal?

one time will be enough.

(Source: tonythegoldfish, via emmoa)

gramadrama.tumblr.com

In Malcolm X’s account of his first conk, he details how the entire drive behind Black men straightening their hair stemmed from their desire to be more like whites. He expresses his great disgust and abhorrence at their behavior and admits that although he too was once one of them, he now has nothing but the utmost distaste for the African-American men and women who strive to recreate the physical appearance of their White counterparts. But lately there seems to be a reversal of roles in pop culture, especially in rap and hip-hop. More and more we see white celebrities attempting to emulate black culture to seem cooler or more relevant. More specifically, this turnaround is prominent in hip-hop and rap, with any non-colored rapper being called out, or at least pointed out due to their lack of pigmentation. Playing off X’s indictment of the Black community’s emulation of the whites, let us consider how African-American and hip-hop culture have influenced pop culture. More specifically, let us look at how as these art forms have become more mainstream, and what this means for the politics of race in rap.

Rap and hip-hop are often used synonymously, but the truth is that while the former is a genre of music, the latter is closer to a lifestyle or culture. However, rap and hip-hop music are very close to one another, and for the purpose of this paper will be dealt with together due to their close proximity (though it should be remembered that at the end of the day, they are still separate entities). A large part of the hip-hop culture is MCing, which is also known as “rapping”.

“Rap” is defined as “a type of popular music with a strong rhythm in which the words are spoken, not sung” (Cambridge) and hip-hop music is defined as “a type of popular music in which the subject of the songs is often politics or society and the words are spoken rather than sung” (Cambridge). Both definitions are quite similar, with the distinguishing difference between the two being hip-hop’s political content. However, these definitions are clinical, cut and dry outlines of an art form that is difficult to sum up so succinctly. Rap Genius, a website dedicated to “[critiquing] rap as poetry”, categorizes both rap and hip-hop as “rhythmically assisted poetry”, and in the interest of simplicity, we will proceed to treat both as such.

It is often said that to understand where we are going, we must understand where we have been, and this certainly applies to hip-hop. Piero Scaruffi, a cultural historian, has written a novel on the various music genres prevalent in the U.S.; through a quick summary, let us consider rap’s origins, which lie in Africa. There, stories were spoken to a beat accompanied by drums and other instruments. From there, once it was brought to the U.S., it developed into spoke-word jazz poetry in the south of the U.S., where beat poets then took it up. Rap took its next step with the invention of funk music in the 1960s, which is widely regarded as the last big change to rap before it reached the more modern form that many people are familiar with now. It is also important to note that through this period, the majority, if not all, of musicians who were playing this music were Black.

Scaruffi goes on to put it in perspective, explaining how hip-hop started being seriously focused on as a genre in 1970, and that Sugarhill Gang released “Rapper’s Delight”, the first hip hop song to make it onto the charts, in 1979. However the first white group didn’t appear for another seven years after that, when the Beastie Boys released “Licensed to Ill” in 1986. And even then, the all-white group stayed close to their punk roots, which contrasted a little bit with the majority of their Black hip-hop-making counterparts. This was a turning point in the industry, and to this day the Beastie Boys are still widely acclaimed as a classic rap group (Scaruffi).

However, despite the Beastie Boys’ great success and the fact that all three of the members were white, white MCs as a whole were not overly successful with their endeavors in hip hop. Even after the group broke onto the scene, any newcomers who happened to be white were not looked upon kindly for it. In “Without Me”, Eminem, one of the biggest selling artists ever, let alone white MCs, rapped

Though I’m not the first king of controversy,

I am the worst thing since Elvis Presley,

To do black Music so selfishly

And use it to get myself wealthy,

There’s a concept that works,

Twenty million other white rappers emerge

– a glimpse into perhaps why white MCs were not welcome in rap and hip hop: the idea that by successfully rapping, White people are taking from the Black community. The lines speak to the idea that the only reason he has been so highly debated is due to the fact that he is a white man doing something that, for the most part, was usually a black man’s profession or art form. However, regardless of how much his being white has affected his publicity, positively or negatively, Eminem has always been a strong proponent of the idea that although it currently does, race should not play a role in rap.

In an interview, speaking on the subject of his race, Eminem acknowledged the kind of logic behind disliking him for being a white rapper, but also pointing out that he couldn’t help that he happened to be white. When interviewed by Spin, he said “Yeah, I did see where the people dissing me were coming from. But, it`s like, anything that happened in the past between black and white, I can`t really speak on it, because I wasn`t there. I don`t feel like me being born the color I am makes me any less of a person” (Mathers). His comment speaks to the mindset that he addresses in his lyrics that White rappers are detracting from Black rappers. He makes the fair statement that whatever injustices occurred in the past, he was not there. He takes a fairly non-racial stance on the entire issue, and has gone on in other interviews to state that he doesn’t care about what color his listeners or label mates are.

Eminem’s lyrics also bring to light the way that only successful white rappers are picked apart. He cites his success and then goes on to state that there are numerous other white rappers in the business, but that he’s been the only white individual to capitalize so greatly off the originally predominantly Black music form. The line also speaks to the fact that although there were a plethora of other white rappers, very few of them were blowing up as large as Eminem, and even then, he was the most focused on.

However, in a certain way, it could be argued there is some justification in the attacks against Eminem. Though he has not done anything, there is still a general fear within the industry of Whites taking over, and it is based in a certain amount of fact. M. K. Asante, a tenured professor at Morgan State University in Baltimore, explores and comments on the progression of hip-hop and how it has led to the “post hip hop generation” (Asante 7). His analysis of the art form today centers in its representation of the young African-American community and how it is failing to accurately depict the real Black community as it becomes more mainstream.

Asante’s breakdown of the industry and its social effect and roots is highly personal and it makes no effort to hide this. However, certain facts that he presents are fairly convincing in terms of showing that there are misconceptions about the structure of the hip hop industry. He attacks the gentrification of the industry, pointing out that although people like P. Diddy, Jay-Z, Russell Simmons, etc. are considered “moguls” (111), they are not truly in charge of their music because at the end of the day it is up to “parent companies”, which are run by exec boards, which are predominantly white.

To put it in context, fans are dependent on the rappers, who are dependent labels, who are dependent on parent companies, which are run by white males. In a way, the uproar every time a white rapper succeeds in the industry is too little too late, because this part of black culture was already being overseen by whites from the start, lending a certain credibility to Eminem’s stance that race does not, or at least should not matter in rap. However, on the flip side, Whites already have a strong hold in the hip hop industry through their corporate positions, and for a large number of them to rise to the top rappers’ spots as well would mean that Blacks were effectively crowded out of their own cultural invention, providing insight as to why their might be so much malevolence towards white rappers.

Regardless of how some members of the rap community may feel towards him, Eminem’s success should come as no surprise. In today’s culture, there are just as many white kids listening to rap as there are black kids, not to mention that there is much more mixing of races and cultures than when hip-hop first started. It logically follows that, as a result there will be some merging and integrating of cultural trends, such as White youth also listening to rap. Then, if White kids are listening to rap, wouldn’t it follow that they would want to listen to some White rappers as well?

In contrast to Eminem, who does not see his race as an issue in his vocation, Macklemore, another white rapper, has written entire songs on the issue – sometimes even going so far as to almost apologize for being white. His evident guilt, or at least internal conflict, is apparent in the lines of “White Privilege”, a song all about being white and a part of hip hop culture. He says he “claimed a culture that wasn’t mine, the way of the American” referring to that even though he is white, he is living the hip hop lifestyle, which is predominantly Black – much like the Europeans came to the New World and claimed land that already belonged to someone else.

And in “A Wake”, another song that deals with his being a white rapper in a mostly black profession, Macklemore raps,

Fighting for our freedom that my people stole
Don’t wanna make all my white fans uncomfortable
But you don’t even have a fuckin’ song for radio
Why you out here talkin race, tryin’ to save the fuckin’ globe
Don’t get involved with the causes in mind
White privilege, white guilt, at the same damn time

As stated before, the concept of “white privilege” is a large issue to Macklemore, and he is fully aware of his racial disparity from his contemporaries. The verse in question is the MC’s way of acknowledging the fact that he is aware that he is white and although he wants to not care, he has to factor it into his actions and lyrics. He refers to the “freedom that [his] people stole”, referencing slavery, and how it has negatively impacted the black community through the history of America, even now that slavery and segregation are no longer a part of society. He is speaking to the fact that it’s very difficult for him as a white rapper to comment on racial issues, but that he still wants to do what he can without alienating his white fans and seeming like he’s over-reaching his bounds as a rapper. Considering both sides of the issue, it’s hard to definitively say whether or not race should play a part in hip hop, but there is one aspect of the discussion that we have not yet touched upon: collaboration.

Music has long been a collaborative art form. Rap and hip-hop grew from other musical genres, and they will continue to change and morph over the course of the years, no doubt spawning new styles as they go. And even within music, in relation to other genres, hip-hop is a highly cooperative sector. It’s not uncommon to see a single song with five or six different artists rapping on it, with each of the musicians taking a single verse. It’s also become an acceptable practice to sample another artist’s work in your own. Sampling is when an artist takes something that is already out there, whether it is another artist’s song, or just a sound, and uses it as a part of their own recording, almost like an instrument. There’s a general understanding in rap that sampling is perfectly fine, so long as one artist doesn’t profit off the work of another. Due to this unspoken rule, sampling generally takes place most often on mixtapes, because in these, you can sample other artists’ music as much as you like, so long as you’re not just blatantly putting their full songs on your work, due to the fact that you’re not selling the final product, rather distributing it for free.

Considering all of this collaboration, it seems odd that an industry that thrives off teamwork would want to cut out anyone that has something new to bring to the table. However, at the same time it makes sense that a community comprise mostly of African Americans might be skittish when it comes to including the descendants of the same people whose actions resulted in the blacks’ lowered status, not to mention that the threat of being edged out of their own craft is a very real one. However, at the end of the day, regardless of skin color, there is a parallel to be drawn between hip-hop and society: as an upset Malcolm X pointed out, the conk originated from the Blacks emulating the Whites. But then hip hop stemmed from African-American culture, and any and all White success based in this art form is therefore rooted in their emulation, or at least adaption of African-American culture. That is to say, similarly to how rappers’ advances and new ideas all stem from each other’s, so too do black and white culture. It is all connected, regardless of whether we want it to be or not. 

A few months ago, I turned eighteen, making me a full-fledged adult and functioning member of society. At least, that’s what I’m led to believe. From what I’ve gathered, I gained the right to vote, buy tobacco products, gamble, and legally view porn (as if that’s stopped me till now). I can also now be charged as an adult if I commit any sort of crime. Additionally, I can no longer have sex with anyone who is younger than eighteen, even if I did before I reached “adulthood”. Pretty much, the minute the clock struck midnight and I turned eighteen, I became a whole new person in the eyes of the government. And that pisses me off.

Why does turning eighteen make me so much more mature? I’m expected to believe that just because I’ve made my eighteenth trip around the sun, all of a sudden I magically became worthy of being an adult? I fail to see the difference between my qualifications for adulthood between the day I turned eighteen and any other day in my life. In fact, truth be told, I think I’ve regressed since I hit legal adulthood.

Seriously, what’s with the insane premise that all human beings mature at exactly the same rate? As children we are all constantly told that everyone’s different, that we all grow at different rates and that it’s completely natural. I know this, you know this, but apparently no one told the government this, seeing as they find it completely logical that we all become fully functioning adults right when we turn eighteen, regardless of the actual development of each individual.

I mean, isn’t age really nothing more than a measure of how long you’ve been around, a way of establishing seniority? It doesn’t necessarily translate into maturity or knowledge - being older certainly doesn’t make you wiser or smarter. I’ve met plenty of so-called adults with the awareness and thought processes of a child, and conversely, I’ve met teenagers with more self-awareness, poise, and general intelligence than some of our nation’s adults. I’m sure that you can think of plenty of celebrities you would prefer not to vote. Hell, I’m sure you can think of several politicians who shouldn’t be allowed to vote. And on the flip-side, I’m sure you can think of a few minors who’re more than ready to vote.

But let’s ignore the ludicrous idea that we all grow at the same rate. Let’s forget for a minute that to the government, being eighteen is all it takes to be an adult. All that aside, the other thing that really bugs me about hitting this randomly set legal milestone, is that it’s not all-inclusive. Amongst the many rights that I gain, the right to drink is not one of them. Yes, that makes total sense: I can die for my country, vote on who’s going to run it, and be charged as an adult for any illegal act that I commit, but I sure as hell can’t enjoy a drink. Where is the logic here?

People talk about crazy laws like how in one city it’s illegal to buy, sell, or possess a squirt gun, and they laugh at the ludicrousness of these rules. But take a minute to sit down and think about our national laws, the rules that govern the entire country, and how crazy some of them are.

There’s always a bigger fish

A creature looming over you

Something to drag everything

Into the deep and gloom

-

The animals and monsters

Our fears have become

Pursue us and elude us

From when we are first young

-

They chase me till I pant

And run after my dreams

They’ve eaten up my normalcy

Torn my life at seams

-

Eat or be eaten

Is the mantra we repeat

Neither sounds appealing

So where’s the in-between

-

Am I running from life

Or am I dodging myself

Are the questions I ask

Worth declining health

-

My life is  party

But it’s blackout time

I can’t remember

How happy was I

-

Demons and myths

Still haunt my old thoughts

They rise and they dip

The truth still gets lost

-

Where should I search

For an answering key

Where have I left

The answer to me

There’s a part of me that knew right then

when, the first instant

You would leave, but you never could

You weren’t there from the start

I knew I never should

Have let hopes fly

Only to fall

Have let them sail

Just to die

I’m bad and I know it

Cause scars and tears

I ignore the truth

Give in to my fears

-

Lie to others

And then myself

Blurry morals

No ethics of self

- 

The world is hazy

Through my view

Life is wasted

Nothing is new