Almost half of life of a man is spent taking shit. Isn’t it so? Think about the last time you took shit. I’m sure it wasn’t too long ago.
I don’t know what more to say on the matter. Look at everyone’s face. Looks like each one of us is betrayed in existence. We have been baited. We have been deceived. We have been dumbed down and made compliant. Sometimes I feel that I can see more than others. It hurts to be able to see before others can. It’s hard to tell anybody anything. It’s impossible to forewarn about anything. It’s hard to keep quiet as well. I cannot thank enough the medium of writing as a way of direct communication.
It’s one thing to take shit all your life. It’s another thing to have an outlet, a way of expression. I think it’s necessary to have a way of expression in one’s life, to have a way of venting it all out. For me, that way of expression is writing. Although I do not always write to vent out. I just write. It just so happens to help me in venting out what is sometimes pent up within me for days and years. Writing is discomforting but there’s some joy in feeling that discomfort. The joy of being able to put something into clear lines is something else.
So what if half life of a man is spent taking shit. All lives aren’t equally fortunate, but all lives are worthy.
– Tomic
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