Hardships & Struggle

If only materials could cure me. If only a new vehicle and the latest trends in fashion could bring me out of my disheveled state of being and put an end to this constant questioning, what great world I would find! It would be microscopic. The focal points would be pleasant and bad thoughts would cease to exist. But I find that with reality come times of hardships and struggle. Hardships and struggle, says a father to his son. And those chemicals of neurotransmitters, that pump electrical charges throughout one’s brain, speed up to process and comprehend. Hardships and struggle? But, such color I see! The streets are made of gold and the glimmer from passing windows entices me to feel and want. Urges of desire become a vibrating call, like a church tolling its bells for time of worship. I turned my back on nature ages ago and rediscovered it last week, to be exact. It’s filled with piles of trash and suffocates from the lack of air to breath. And the church bells ring upon ears of biased virtues. You see, this cross around my neck speaks from the mouths of false prophets. Logic and argument were thrown far into the woods one-day. They sat there and biodegraded on top of a plastic spoon. The spoon remained for another day, and the struggles of humanity continued to be unnoticed. When one starts to lose sight of such common dreams, such as the dreams we all obtain. To be nothing more, than fake participants in a world of formalities made so very, very long ago, how would one escape? For if materials don’t make a man happy and if struggle is seen as such a human quality, how do we not all observe it? If Sunday is our day to pray, yet we live lives of unspeakable horror throughout the week, what can be learnt if we never do the teaching? If history, politics, mathematics and even art are up to the experts of a specified field, we need ignore our impulse. Our impulse to yell like a child yells. To cry and feel the warmth of a mother that yields their understanding of juvenile frustration. For when we begin to lose our youth and innocence, we take on the burdens of artificial adulthood. It relies upon not ignorance or the inability to think critically, but the desire to simply not do so. For humanity encompasses the constant analysis of our daily lives, yet has been directed to the most minuscule of things. We decide it best to stick with our desired party line, or ideologies of life. But they were decided for us and we never come to that conclusion, not even at the end of such beautiful life. For when one loses that adolescent questioning of ‘Why?’ then one has lost themselves to planned motives created by any society.

One cannot over analyze. For if logic is used and rationale applied, there is no idea or thought that can receive too much attention. Yet if logic is gone because argument died, than the questions we ask ourselves of such frivolous nature, of who, what, when, where, and why—-are but arbitrary manifestations that our lives are truly nothing but lonely nights. And in the morning, when one wakes to that rising sun—-they can throw such thoughts as these at bay until night falls upon them again. They can numb their mind with whatever interests any specific individual applies and they can consume, purchase, and buy happiness, and they can ignore such basic truths of life: hardships and struggle.