It's there. It's still there.
At first glance, no-one would notice. No one would care, so to speak. But someone looked. Someone saw, the most unusual thing, and yet so concealed, so hidden amongst the everyday, every morning blandness, the monotonous scenario leading to your day job, your boring job, your boring life.
But there it was.
Through the bus' window pane, through layers and layers of dust and whatever people may have...deposited across the glassy surfaced over the days, over the years, you saw. You saw the most unusual thing.
While everyone else was staring at the TV screen placed carefully inside the bus, while they were busy checking their texts and whatnot, there it was, for people like you to see. For people that don't belong along, for people that simply aren't there.
People that don't live here, amongst us.
Only this kind of people notices such things. Only these fools care about these things.
Fools. They live here, but they're not here at all. They seem to be alive, but they're not. They're long gone. Dead. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Only a shell of a human being.
Only a shadow of what's expected to be a human being.
They don't like to talk about small things. They don't like to discuss everyone else's lives, they don't care about clothing, about style. They follow no trends, they follow no church. They have no God.
Can you imagine a soulless person like this?
Can you picture how hollow is to be like that?
They don't like to be at the spotlight. They don't want to be famous, at least not like the winner of the decade-old reality show. They don't want to be on the cover of Caras. They have no ambition, no drive.
They don't care about money, they don't care about cars. They purchase only the things they truly love, such idiotic items, pencils, picks. Guitars. Pedal effects. Papers, inks. They have no desire to buy the finer stuff in life. Ferraris. Calvin Klein shirts. Ray-Bans. Things that really matter, that really makes us unique.
They go on and on, displaying their lifeless faces, they are so empty inside. They are so wrong. They think twice before saying things that may harm other people. They care about friends; they even think they have actual friends!
When you're really alive, you realize that you are unique, you are your best buddy, and no-one else will ever love you like you love yourself, no matter how ambiguous and wrong that sentence may sound. You just know that money is love. That the things you buy define yourself as a person, a refined gentleman.
Such barbaric fools. They are so naive. They really think that human beings should care about this nonsense. They think that we're just as moronic as they are.
And when they realize that they are nothing but stupid, idealistic people, that's when they begin to die. And after a few decades, they're as good as dead. Vagrants of a human body, real human hobos. They think they're so special. So full of contempt with their so-called "higher values" and some other bullshit like that. In the 60s, they were hippies.
Now they are just...human waste. Nonproductive human beings, parasites. With all their ideals and shit like that. In the end, they go on living until they realize they are utterly alone in this world. In this humanity.
In the end, their fraternal friends, those that are really smart, abandon them to their fate, their certain doom. These friends they once valued so much, they just realize how foolish it is to behave like that. So they leave, they change their ways. They evolve. They progress.
And the soulless men, they remain there, sitting alone in a bus, looking through a dirty window, seeing a pair of red pants dangling from the high-security fence across the street. Only these fools would notice a dumb thing like that.
What is the purpose of noticing such things? What good will that do? Noticing these useless things won't get them laid. Won't make them any richer. Won't give them enlightenment or some crap. Won't get them nowhere.
And yet, the dead man still stares at the scene. The idiotic scene.
Such a waste of life. No wonder everyone that ever hung around these fools eventually abandon them. And that is so ironic, they actually think they are doing something good, remaining faithful to their twisted beliefs.
They're just pushing everyone else away. No one likes an old grunt. No one likes a negative person. No one likes to be friends to a fool that won't ever admit defeat, won't ever face the fact that their imaginary world won't never, ever, come true.
Well, it is just poetic justice. It is an evolutionary thing: they will be extinct someday; after all, they won't be able to breed. Thank our God for that.
Someday we'll be rid of these downers. Of these human nuisances, theses empty, broken robots that wander around the earth, trying to bring us down. Trying to show us that we should be like this or like that.
Someday, they won't be around no more.
And then, we shall rejoice.
At first glance, no-one would notice. No one would care, so to speak. But someone looked. Someone saw, the most unusual thing, and yet so concealed, so hidden amongst the everyday, every morning blandness, the monotonous scenario leading to your day job, your boring job, your boring life.
But there it was.
Through the bus' window pane, through layers and layers of dust and whatever people may have...deposited across the glassy surfaced over the days, over the years, you saw. You saw the most unusual thing.
While everyone else was staring at the TV screen placed carefully inside the bus, while they were busy checking their texts and whatnot, there it was, for people like you to see. For people that don't belong along, for people that simply aren't there.
People that don't live here, amongst us.
Only this kind of people notices such things. Only these fools care about these things.
Fools. They live here, but they're not here at all. They seem to be alive, but they're not. They're long gone. Dead. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Only a shell of a human being.
Only a shadow of what's expected to be a human being.
They don't like to talk about small things. They don't like to discuss everyone else's lives, they don't care about clothing, about style. They follow no trends, they follow no church. They have no God.
Can you imagine a soulless person like this?
Can you picture how hollow is to be like that?
They don't like to be at the spotlight. They don't want to be famous, at least not like the winner of the decade-old reality show. They don't want to be on the cover of Caras. They have no ambition, no drive.
They don't care about money, they don't care about cars. They purchase only the things they truly love, such idiotic items, pencils, picks. Guitars. Pedal effects. Papers, inks. They have no desire to buy the finer stuff in life. Ferraris. Calvin Klein shirts. Ray-Bans. Things that really matter, that really makes us unique.
They go on and on, displaying their lifeless faces, they are so empty inside. They are so wrong. They think twice before saying things that may harm other people. They care about friends; they even think they have actual friends!
When you're really alive, you realize that you are unique, you are your best buddy, and no-one else will ever love you like you love yourself, no matter how ambiguous and wrong that sentence may sound. You just know that money is love. That the things you buy define yourself as a person, a refined gentleman.
Such barbaric fools. They are so naive. They really think that human beings should care about this nonsense. They think that we're just as moronic as they are.
And when they realize that they are nothing but stupid, idealistic people, that's when they begin to die. And after a few decades, they're as good as dead. Vagrants of a human body, real human hobos. They think they're so special. So full of contempt with their so-called "higher values" and some other bullshit like that. In the 60s, they were hippies.
Now they are just...human waste. Nonproductive human beings, parasites. With all their ideals and shit like that. In the end, they go on living until they realize they are utterly alone in this world. In this humanity.
In the end, their fraternal friends, those that are really smart, abandon them to their fate, their certain doom. These friends they once valued so much, they just realize how foolish it is to behave like that. So they leave, they change their ways. They evolve. They progress.
And the soulless men, they remain there, sitting alone in a bus, looking through a dirty window, seeing a pair of red pants dangling from the high-security fence across the street. Only these fools would notice a dumb thing like that.
What is the purpose of noticing such things? What good will that do? Noticing these useless things won't get them laid. Won't make them any richer. Won't give them enlightenment or some crap. Won't get them nowhere.
And yet, the dead man still stares at the scene. The idiotic scene.
Such a waste of life. No wonder everyone that ever hung around these fools eventually abandon them. And that is so ironic, they actually think they are doing something good, remaining faithful to their twisted beliefs.
They're just pushing everyone else away. No one likes an old grunt. No one likes a negative person. No one likes to be friends to a fool that won't ever admit defeat, won't ever face the fact that their imaginary world won't never, ever, come true.
Well, it is just poetic justice. It is an evolutionary thing: they will be extinct someday; after all, they won't be able to breed. Thank our God for that.
Someday we'll be rid of these downers. Of these human nuisances, theses empty, broken robots that wander around the earth, trying to bring us down. Trying to show us that we should be like this or like that.
Someday, they won't be around no more.
And then, we shall rejoice.
