I observe myself silently changing
because I hate you so much. I
find myself having all the different
values than those frantic ones I have
created in turbulence because I despise
the idea that you always seem to have
what you want. You always manage to
get what you want. You don’t at all
deserve what you have because
you don’t question the vapid sphere
beyond your four walls. You choose
not to understand the world beyond
the space in which you confined yourself
because doing so would be too hard.

I don’t like people who refuse to go
outside. I don’t like people who walk
to the edge of the cliff and decide
not to look down. The world is placed
at the edge of a cliff, and instead of
reaching for it, you choose to kick it
down because having a new idea would
be too hard. It would perish in the wind,
but that wouldn’t matter because it
would save you from confronting the
world that is so unknown to you. You think
you are different from the rest of the world.

I don’t like people who think they were
born with some sort of divine purpose to
create art. I hate your smile. You look like a
demented jack-o-lantern. There is nothing
true or genuine or captivating about your
existence. You think you have been created
to observe the world, to observe its truth,
whatever that means. You think the world
around you is just a painting to be described,
that human experience is just a book to be
analyzed. I tell you a secret about human
experience. It will be so artistic that your
mind will be blown away. It is a statement so
profound that the veil of self-deception will be
shattered and left with naught. I tell you now:
u wot m8 ill hook u rit in da gabbr. Innit.