Sometimes I wonder if there’s ever going to be a point where there will be no need to ask questions. When I can just see and accept things as they are without being critical or skeptical or suspicious. My short life has been one long question. Question after question after question, wringing the colour out of the colourful, beating the air out of the balloon. I have grown accustomed to suffocating ideas in their sleep and attacking them when they’re weak. Why can’t we all agree?
Sometimes I wonder if there’s ever going to be a point where there will be no need to mask questions. Disguising them in politically correct speak and sugar coating them with extra sweet. My short life has been one long response to somebody else’s question. I want to be able to ask my own – question after question after question, welcoming back the colour into monochromatic tradition, breathing life into tired satisfaction. I have grown accustomed to accepting authority and keeping on someone else’s leash on my own sanity. Why is it so wrong to disagree?