puppeteered

Are people so animalistic as to be able to block off the only thing that differentiates themselves from animals? Qualia? Perhaps the ability to block off sentience of another human being is how much people have evolved to become. The ability to treat people like pawns to a game. Right now i'm so confused as to the capacity of humanity I don't exactly want to think about it anymore.

I'm doubly confused. Perhaps I'm a lot more innocent than I think I am.

I'm still wondering about the value of a life when half the world has moved on from the boy locked up in jail ready to be killed. I've been asking friends, what was their stand on this topic, what they thought of the mandatory death sentence. And their answer came back the same. Yes, I support it. I asked, again and again, why? Why would you take someone's life, and in this case someone who committed the offence at 19 and has repented, no matter the circumstance.

Does he not deserve a second chance? Does anyone realise he is YOUNG and perhaps uneducated and made an uninformed decision? Yes, we know. We know all that. But the government has its stand, and a good one at that. And then I asked, well is political agenda more important than a life? Yes. WHY? Because politics does not just involve politicians, it involves lives. And because 47 grams of cocaine can kill a lot more people than just one. But shouldn't he be forgiven and given a second chance? No. WHY? Because people will follow his footsteps, make a story, make them believe that they too deserve a second chance. Drug dealers will realise that there is a loophole in the judicial system they can make use of, and even perhaps bring more unsuspecting young people into the drug business by telling them there isn't a mandatory death sentence. Drug dealers will begin to tailor their messengers according to the law. And a vicious cycle will occur. And the drug wars begin.

I went to look up the statistics on drugs, to see if any countries without the death penalty fared better. Apparently not.

Still... why go for the tiny messengers? Why not go for the main mastermind? Is the death penalty a sign of the government's inability to target the top heads? Or because they don't want to? We're using a down-up method instead of a top-down method in this way no?

Still very confused. Answers anyone? Or just more food for thought?

 Deadweight


Don’t try to judge a life
Just cause their whispers are so jaded
But alive

You don’t want them to be heard
For their laughter’s vile as dirt
Short of shy

They’ve the same body, the same smile
You hate it but they seem to
See through the same eyes

You watch their tears and tremble
They’re inhuman but masterfully
Disguised

They’re deadweight
They’re deadweight
Cause they’re deadweight
In your eyes

We all wanted to be weightless
All our lives
To float faceless
In disguise

We all took part in the races
Left the mud caked on our faces
And your eyes

You’re the judge in every reign
The power and saint
In all lies

You’re deadweight
You’re deadweight
Cause you’re deadweight
In our eyes

In our eyes.

Today went past in a whizz.

By whizz I mean a jerky jumpy exciting kind of whizz. I woke up in the morning with a start and discovered I had woken up an hour before and turned off my alarm clocks. In a jiffy and a huffpuff, I was sitting in a room with a allsmiley doll on my left, a chubbybubby monster on hers, and a moronic moron on my right, and a very motherly panther in front of me. And all of a sudden I decided I wanted to swim in pages of yellowed old books and be engulfed by the old-booky smells old books have. Musty doesn't describe it. Penguins will jump from one book to another and when they find a macaw they have to battle it on a rotating wheel, spinning at twenty times the speed of light.

I walked into the library, and discovered to my dismay the shelves were not in their places, but moving about and shifting like they were edgy and fidgety. I told them to be careful in case they let a book out and alarmed the librarians who were so concerned about books they forgot about their shelves. I took a book out of the shelf and thanked it, passed it to the librarian who scanned it and smiled at me nicely, all this whilst the shelf was staring me down. I escaped into the lift, who started with a huge lurch and decided to plummet down endlessly, until of course, it was my floor and it couldn't let me make too much of a ruckus beside the very stately bespectacled man holding a book. That would have been very unbecoming. Someone with a big make-me-invisible board walked past me, for a moment I thought it was a frame on legs! How silly of me.

When I entered the grocery store, it was more magical than ever. The grocery baskets discovered their true prowess and begun stacking themselves, how convenient for the store managers. I ducked and dodged the baskets before touching down at my cashier, who was making too many polite noises. I turned on my voice mini-fier to turn down the hullabaloo and trotted home. 

On my way home, when a flower turned to talk to me, I thought, "I should tell him all about my really epic journey today!". Then with a little start I realized I didn't have a 'him'. Not three, nor two, nor one. I had half, but he was mute as I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought about it. And the more that thought wiggled and squirmed in my stomach, the more I didn't like it. And when it reached my throat and shot out, suddenly the magic disappeared. And I was sad again.

I'm in a daze again, guess I'm not going to make a big fuss out of it as usual. Just hate it when I'm like this. I can't do anything. It's like anaesthetic for the brain.

I've discovered an image in my head that nailed itself to my skull. I didn't even know about it until now. You always asked if I thought I could live with someone else. Imagine marrying someone else. I never replied, I didn't know. But I know now.

I'd reel him in slowly, with so much caution, on strings tied loosely about his waist towards me. I'd hope he would've untied them somehow. But every time, he'd come slamming straight into my face with such force I'm sure he willed it. And every night it recurs, again and again. And my chest, timorous almost, retreats into itself. His eyes stare at me again, wrought with resignation and a quivering ache. It's a picture, a frame in my head repeating ad infinitum on its own. When I walked into his room, when yet again I consciously stabbed him to shove him further from me, when I scarred my face from an angst I can't remember.

I can't rid it...
I might not want to.

Why on earth should I care?

London has been unfriendly. Unkind. There are 6 billion people on this earth. But none of these people but one, will know me. 

And again I've lost myself in this thick jungle of people, wandering somewhere along the pitch dark roads of London, with a map and a bus guide but without a direction. Why have I once again thrown myself in a world of pretense? I am sane, and being functional. I know what I want that I don't want. And I'm doing it. Because I have to learn to survive without a soul. I'm wondering once again where to turn. There's a dead end straight ahead, there are worlds ahead of me. There are vines and dead things ahead, there is beauty and wonder ahead. The goal constantly mutates and rears its ugly head. 

But again I'll be fine tomorrow. A new day will begin. And then the rain wouldn't matter.

So why bother about today?

I find it kinda funny I've spent half my life being an emo prick. I've changed, at least i can look back and laugh. Some things just aren't worth being sad about. I'm happy I have a huge emotional palette though. I guess that's one of the good things that came out of that. I'm quickly moving on to the next stage of my life. Albeit a little hesitantly, I'll pull through. I've begun to see there's always a good side of things. Sounds queer because some people never needed to be taught that. Anyway here's a new song.