I am sick of it all; they sickened me—this city, my city, its people, the ones I know, the ones I don’t, the ones I cared for, the ones I never did. But it’s all good, they tell me. It’s all good, I tell you.
I was born into a country where the boundaries between right and wrong were never meant to make sense. You’re not supposed to ask questions, you’re not supposed to know why, you’re hardly supposed to be.
I was given the keys to a heaven I never asked for. And then I was asked to live. By their own rules, on their own terms, with their bunch of mediocre beings. No questions. No amendments.
It’s all a mess. We’re all a mess. But it’s all good. Wasted youth chasing awesome dreams. Wasted youth living the life.
Wasted youth getting wasted.
Wasted youth against perfection. Wasted youth against religion.
Wasted youth playing with fire.
Wasted youth making out in public. Wasted youth making out your future.
We’re all wasted. It’s all good.
Because we can see the awesome – it is right there. Because we can escape boring bitter realities and not feel guilty.
We’re not patriotic. We never were. We never will. We never cared. We’re global citizens. We don’t vote for Jeita.
Because our world is one of possibilities—endless, infinite possibilities.
Ours is one where we play with thoughts, orgasm on ideas and build things out of nothing.
Ours is the one with blue moons, with boys who make out with boys, with girls who make out with toys, with blueberry pastas and blueberry nights, with love letters gone wild and dance floors shattered to pieces. It’s a world of hope, a world of dreams, a world of good things.
Because ours is where we do change. We’re self-made. We’re man-made.
Because ours is where we do awesome.
I still want to vent. Out and loud. Because it’s all good.
Curator of awesome. Editor-in-Chief of The Outpost magazine. Flâneur extraordinaire.