WE ARE ANIMALS
To my friend,
We are animals. We are absolute animals. We clamour at the first sign of danger towards the source and consequently giggle at self-inflicted demise. We are lonely and infinitely children. There is nobody in the world better than us because we are the best and have convinced ourselves of it. Or at least, I have convinced us of it. Right now. Believe it or your life is over. There is the sun, and there is the moon – impostor of sun, thief of light source. Take a moment to think about how it has a better reputation in our lives: how is it that we glorify the con artist of the universe so incredibly and allow it to dictate so much of our justifications? Are we then ultimately as second-in-hand, as far away from a pioneer, as superficially beautiful? We have never spoken of the sun like it is the most impeccable thing in our vision, and yet it is what’s described in the beginning of most stories – it’s light dancing on the pavement, it defining the quality of the rest of the day, its superiority defaulted by being the loudest existence the moment eyes are opened – what is our malfunction? We are animals. We are absolute animals. We talk of the moon like most people talk of God, of yoga, of their new diet plan. We are lonely and we are sad, and that has nothing to do with the moon. We are lonely and we are sad, and so is everybody else. We are children of the universe with the power to wield everything and anything because we are absolute animals.