This post is from my other son, who works diligently on being a creative writer. He tends towards humour in various forms, but he also writes serious. And he has had several stories published in the past two years in various literary publications. 🙂
Being weird is fun most of the time. Worthy of no regrets, most of the time. But, you know, there are times when you wish you could go out and hang with these hypothetical normal types, and not discuss dick-arms and leg-handshakes, and whose movie is most artistic, and about sex, sex, sex, all the time. It’s exhausting.
But why is it exhausting? Shouldn’t that just be what life is? If the constant moments of life are exhausting, shouldn’t we be adjusted to that? Shouldn’t there be some kind of evolutionary feature that helps us to cope with long lines and paperwork and End User Agreements? Shouldn’t evolution have fixed that by now? We should love that shit, we should be enamored with paperwork. Up to our teeth in it. It should be the essence of what makes us human.
But, instead. Dread. Constant, unending DREAD. This constant slog, to…
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