Everyone's in such hurry to get on with life.
And it makes me sad too see them try and try to get on with the wrong things. It's all a struggle, all about the next step, all after some prestigeous, fancy, pompous way of proving themselves. We search for one another in the numeric illusions of the mind. Labels, all we chase. Labels. And more of them.
Applications are filled with the most cautious hands. For what? This is not the place for it. Wasn't higher education supposed to be high? The halls should have been filled with people caring about Whitman or Mann, teachers should have been guiding people to learn--not to memorize or to speak back, but to learn, learn so we can all see the horizions for ourselves. Libraries should have been crowded; not with people studying for the next text, but with people reading a book on a rainy monday afternoon.
Every breath should have given me inspiration.
First they blamed highschool. I wonder how can they not see what stands right in front of them? The act of learning is becoming a handy tool to prove how valuable of an asset you will become for the next firm to employ you. Everyone chases the ways to turn Marx into money. They don't discuss, they don't understand.
I don't understand. How can they not feel the burning when you read that next word that says what you have always wanted to say? How can they ignore the november poems, how can they not understand that humanity is, after all, one brick upon another?
How can they come by those bricks, stare at them in silence, and then go back to their cash registers and deadlines and 5 year plans?
Then again, it could be just me again, chasing something entirely diferent.
Tullips maybe. I have always loved tulips.
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