We wait like servants for the people who make us feel correct, who make us stand erect, who allow us the opportunity to reveal our true nature; be it calm, collected, insane, detached, hellish, whatever the case by case basis, and for what? For absolution. For love infinite. For earth-quaking, tectonic plate shifting love. I wonder when, “our-self” stopped being enough. I remember a life of clinging to my family, when I was 4 and needed my mom, when I was 10 and needed my dad, when I was 15 and needed to know how to get laid, so I asked my brother. I remember these moments, but I was always comfortable with myself. When did I lose that comfort? I can tell you when I fell in love with different blood, not friendship love, but real, spinal cavity love. When I wanted to puke up my heart to give as my best present to her. That’s when the whole kingdom collapsed, that’s what archaeologists will maintain that some sort of inexplicable putrescence befell the kingdom of Rob. They will document chipped artifacts once pure as sunlight, now wilted sheen. They will discuss the caste system of Rob and how it all disseminated from the primal, infallible, almighty Rob. They will wonder how the society perished, how all beings, all cells, died off. They will recognize that a long term seclusion must’ve started the demise. Air left the lungs of the great society. Water became scarce. The society felt no need to meet appropriate deadlines. The survivors scattered into songs, others fell victim to drink, and smog. They will wonder how tragic the end must have been to the thriving pinnacle of Rob. How disastrous an end could it have been. Well picture your anus being sucked in by a black hole, and a lifeless body recoiling face first into a massive pile of maggot ridden bloody elephant diarrhea regurgitated by std ridden ostriches to feed their malnourished, disfigured children.
But there is life yet. Tiny glimmers of hope in Rob, the legends lived on and are reteaching the early ways of Rob. They are remembering what made the city so majestic. They are cleaning out the aqueducts. They are breeding life again. They are resharpening their tools, because they know that with great tragedy comes a knowledge unlearned by even the smartest of foe. There is no end to Rob, because Rob is the end all be all. Learn my children, and spread this insight to foreign lands. Be what you know you must be. Do what you love. Be. Do. Live.