Author S. K. Nicholas

It’s not that I don’t care, or that I think I’m better somehow. It’s more to do with knowing when to walk away. People come and go. Some touch you, while others are mere wallpaper. It’s the ebb and flow of life. There’s a few that get beneath the skin, but mostly everyone you know is a familiar stranger. Like the guy who sells you your cigarettes, or the woman you bump into on your way to the park every Thursday. People you’ve known for years, who you’ve spent more time with than family- they’re as anonymous as a one night stand. As faceless as the pricks you see on TV who claim to be your friend. You can spend years in a relationship with someone; share your bed with them, shower with them. Cry together. Share the wonders of your minds together, and then just like that- it’s over. All ties severed. A mountain of intimacy forgotten as if it never even existed. How fickle we are. How two-faced, and yet when you make a stand and cut through the shit and tell the truth, you’re attacked for your honesty. Tell it as it is, and you lose people very quickly. It doesn’t bother me much, though. Give me a pen in one hand and a beer in the other, and I’m good. Do what you have to do, and love in whatever way you can. We’re not here to impress; we’re here to create; to speak a truth that denies death. Society is an illness, and those that worship it are best left to their own devices. They can’t be saved, and nor should they be. If you’re too afraid to stand alone and look inside your chest, then go back to whatever rock you came from. You won’t be missed. You had something going when you were a kid, but unlike Peter Pan, you grew up. You lost the magic.