Lame Monkey

I’ve never quite fully understood the vivacious (though sometimes unconscious) urge of others to fake kindness. It seems of late that a majority of our genuineness has been squeezed out of us like a dishwater sponge. However, I am left in the corner, scratching my head like a lame monkey wondering why so many are content to say “Hey, how are you,” and get a simple, shallow reply back. “I’m okay.”


Regrettably the morbid and self-gratifying truthful response is “No, I’m not fucking okay.” Who the hell is!? Or at least all of the time? Rather than take time out of our busy lives to listen to someone’s problems we’d rather glance over it and pretend it doesn’t exist. Even when someone does say they need help, we’ll laugh it off, give you some drone-making medication and be done with you. And yes, we will stay faaar from you next time we’re trying to have a grand day.


It isn’t just that. We all need someone to take care of us. Let’s face it, humans are created to be paired up with other humans. Miraculously we all are going through this little thing called life and I’m boggled as to why anyone other human being would make it that much more difficult for another. Fuck, life is already grueling enough. Could it possibly be so bad as to help someone out when they obviously need help? Instead of just standing to the corner watching someone juggle everything till they fall head first down a flight of stairs, maybe it would be kind of us lend a hand.


People have feelings. It’s sort of, I don’t know, not our fault. So why are people so scared of a little tear duct action? Empathy is a trait sooo many people should love up on. It’s crazy how much just a simple (and genuine please) pat on the back can help one feel considerably better. Boys, it’s okay to cry. Girls, it’s okay to be strong. It’s okay to be whoever you are. Just as long as whoever that person you are is a genuine and positive influence on others.


I don’t think I can stand surrounding myself with people who pretend. Everywhere I look there’s mask-wearing faker after mask-wearing faker. It’s hard to build something worthwhile, something tangible and reassuring, out of fake hellos and quick goodbyes. There’s nothing interesting in a programmed droid who calculates every movement and says only what the other wants to hear. I have enough to be paying attention without having conversations with trash cans.