choking on splinters.

I was under the impression that it was beautiful.

You know how it is, when everyone you respect agrees this one thing’s beautiful, and you can’t distinguish what they see.  They spend a legitimate amount of time examining how much they agree with one another and then you’re stuck. You can’t seem to visually experience the things they admire. So you learn to agree.  It’s much easier than trying to explain yourself.  Am I right?

“Well, no. The way I see it, you have a choice. You don’t have to be honest. You really don’t have to say anything. It’s more appealing than making a complete fool of yourself and altering your opinion.” 

Then you’re left by yourself, no?

“Well, I’d rather be alone than with half a dozen senseless people. Then you’re left with your own thoughts and your own ideas of what is astatically pleasing. No one can directly influence and sculpt your opinion…unless you want them to. Of course you wouldn’t want them to, say yes. It’s kind of like when you wanted to paint something beautiful, not realistic. Your mother wanted scenery but you couldn’t find beauty in something so real. I’m the same way. I can’t be influenced. You see, this is why I’d rather be alone.”

But that's all I know. My entire existence is based off influence. And what if it’s a little more complicated than that. What if this “thing” is really no “thing”? What if it’s a person?

“I would imagine it’s all the same. I say the same goes for everything and anything.”

Wouldn’t that make you the enemy?

“Not necessarily. But then again, you’ve never been a good judge of character.”

I must disagree. I can definitely see when someone’s not being themselves. I know this because I consider myself an expert.

“Wait, wait, wait. Are we talking about the same situation here?”


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