Sweet dreams are made of this. - 04/03/2002 in Opendiary Archive

I can look to the stars, but I still need to feed off the ground…

I’m going home this weekend. It’s my Aunty Jo and Uncle Rogers Wedding anniversary. Can’t believe they managed 25 years. I didn’t think anyone stayed together anymore.

1. How did Aunty Jo stomach him for that long. She must have the patience of a saint. Don’t get me wrong, Uncle Roger is sound, but he’s also the most arrogant git you e’er did see. It’s because he’s so damn clever, he forgets that he might be wrong, so he’s very opinionated.

He’s also something of an idealist. I used to be, and I wish I still was, but as far as I can see ideals are something you use to assure yourself that there’s something better beyond the petty, mundane world we live in. Which is merely deluding yourself.

This may seem in sharp contrast to my statement about everything being wonderful. Perhaps I should explain.

Everyone I know see’s the worlds in black and white. Even those who profess not to do. They are the one’s who say, “I see it in shades of grey”. Grey is just black with good PR.

I see the world in a spectrum of white. Each part of it is wonderful, and terrible and painful, and beautiful. And that’s how it is with everything. Everything hurts, because people can’t bear to look at it, and then when they do look it hurts more because they can’t bear to accept it, and then when they accept it, it hurts more because they have to admit “I was wrong”.

I don’t know if this makes sense to anyone. If I’m the only person I know who get’s the way all the pain is beautiful, and all the light burns. I don’t expect so.

But I won’t assume you don’t.