Another Plastic Rat
2000-08-07 - 17:11:09
I've eaten 1440 Sour Patch Kids (TM) in the last couple weeks. That explains some things.
'Is that a dead rat in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?'
'Actually...it's a dead rat.'
*the rat has come to a dead end in the maze, and there is no cheese*
I used to know what I was looking for in life: a girl I would always love, a job I was happy with, and a little recognition from the people around me. It didn't seem like I was asking much. I did everything in an effort to succeed in the aforementioned goals, but I was lacking something. I must not have been specific enough in my first requests for a happy life. I found myself needing more and more out of life to consider myself "successful". I wanted to create and shape life, I wanted to rule a country, I wanted to achieve 'perfection'...
*the rat comes to another dead end, and starts to panic*
Nothing worked. I realized that I wasn't the type of person who was good for most of the things I wanted to do with my life. I'm not a hacker, assassin, artist, or writer, and I may find soon that everything I've ever wanted to be would have been a waste. I find myself wondering if I really want to be a mortician. It makes sense to me, but maybe it's not right...
*the rat runs franticly though the maze, in a vain effort to find the cheese*
In the past year I have done more with my life than ever, but it's all seems worthless. What is the purpose of this pre-death phase? Why do I run in endless circles, looking for something that may not even exist? But then again, there is nothing else to do but to run in circles.
*the rat notices a slight scent of cheese*
Shopping carts, chasing cars, yoinking signs, getting baked, Kate. Maybe I'm just fooling myself with these things. I have no idea if they are a true happiness or not. I may never know what true happiness is though, so I might as well settle for what I know is possible...just as the people in the Cavern of Socrates accepted their 'reality'.
*the rat drives itself to exhaustion*
That's where I am now...a rat in a maze, considering that running is useless, but knowing that standing still is equally useless. I don't even know why I'm writing this, it's not cheese, it doesn't feel good, it isn't making my life any better. I just want to feel SOMETHING. Happiness, pain or guilt; it's all the same. Chemicals running through the brain, telling it what it should feel. There must be something more...and I feel I will die without having found it.
*the rat stumbles on, through the maze*
