So this a gallery a gallery of paintings painted by artists like you and me,placed on a wall called life.Recently I find myself in front of a painting which I believe is my life.I take a peak at the other painting next to mine,and in an unsatisfied gesture I turn around and start taking a tour of this art gallery and ask myself "how is it,that all of these paintings are so similar?"The answer I have not yet found but I think I am close.May be its because we are living similar lives without even knowing or caring for it.
So,we are born,we learn to walk and run.We start socializing,we have friends and people we dislike,we get bullied,we get yelled at,we learn the ways to stand up once we fall down,and then we fall down again.Then life takes a new turn and starts teaching you its rules.
By the age of 1 you learn that there are rules,but you don't care for it.You have to eat,at dinner time,you shouldn't cry too much,you should start speaking,you should sleep at sleep time and you should grow up to live for the new sets of rules.So you start crying,that basic fact never changes,from that point on.
Basically the social environment we are living in states that,we should be involved in a religion, have a nice education, and work background,be done with government services like military(if its mandatory),have a career planed out and an aspiration in the gut to have more material things.Having a bank loan so that we could buy permanent or semi-permanent things like a house,a dog maybe,a car definitely,a marriage and a baby or a couple of babies.And after that point on we become a complete part of a system that made us cry in the first year of our lives.
As I am walking around the gallery I rarely see happy faces,most of the spectators are sad and disgusted that in their paintings they had to draw things they didn't want to but they did it anyway so that they could fit in.Most of them are doing jobs that they never wanted to,and supporting a dis functional family,because they are living in one where there is no love anymore only forced labor.Or they were married because it was logical.
I finish my tour and stand infront of the painting that I started to hate,light up a cigarette,I hear Jim singing The End in my head,start to remember,every relationship I had and the jobs that I was in,every single mistake that made me draw this carbon copy of a painting that was forced on me to be drawn while I wished to draw something entirely different.This quote comes into my mind.
Emma Goldman once said
"Anarchism, really stands for the liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion; the liberation of the human body from the dominion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of government"
I realize that my cigarette is nearly finished and I have to put it out.And I slam it in the middle of that pitiful piece of art,burning every detail with its heat.A grin forms on my face,as I know that my brain will be damaged forever from this point on.Cause I will have my way with life.not theirs.
This is only Act 1 of a series of stories that will be shared...Stories that are familiar to us all.
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