Life's a funny thing, as people often say. You walk down the road without really thinking for years, and one day, you turn back and start looking at the scenery. You see where you came from, all the junctions you've passed without realizing it, all the choices you made without noticing. Then you turn around and look ahead. And all you see is a straight path to death. You see it passing by your dreams and hopes, your fears and your demons, avoiding it all and taking you with it. And you think “Damn”. You'd like it to turn somehow, to go off of the beaten path, but somewhere, deep down, you know it won't. And you start walking again. And, after a few years, you turn around again, only to see, once more, the crossroads you've missed. And if you're lucky, and I mean damn lucky, somehow, somewhere, you get shoved off the road, and you wander around the world.
Me, I've been lucky a few times. Gone to where the wild things are. But I got caught, like everyone else is eventually, and whacked back to where I was supposed to be. And for a moment, I was glad to be back. The moment after that, I hated myself for it. I tried to escape again, but I couldn't. I tried to push other people off, to save them, at least. But I couldn't. The training was effective.
It was all well thought out. It wasn't hard to put in place, if you had the means. Humans are social animals. No matter what we say or do, only a few of us can truly not give a fuck about others' opinions. Millions of years of evolution made sure that they wouldn't make the cut. Us normal people, we put up a front. We don't mind. We do what we think is right. But below the thin layer of bullshit, we all crave the affection of others. We want to be approved, applauded and praised. Whatever else we say, it doesn't matter.
So, all you need is to give an image for long enough. Tell people what will make them accepted, liked, what will make them popular. It might not be true at first, but keep it up for a little while, and the lie becomes truth. All you need is a few tv stations, a few adds, a few magazines and a few websites. Might seem a lot to you, sure. But that's why you get fucked in the ass. 'Cause the guy doing the fucking, he's got all that shit. And the funny thing is, all the lies even get to him, too. In the end, he forgets why he started the whole scam, and sincerely believes he's doing us all a favor. And we do, too.
Sure, yeah, we got the few odd ones who go against everything the majority does. But in the end, they define themselves in respect to exactly the same values. You just put a minus sign in front. Yeah, that's fucking clever, aye ?
Well, if that was all there was to it, we wouldn't have a problem. Everybody'd be happy, the rich, the poor, those against and those in favor. Everybody'd know where the stand, and where they want to go. Problem is, there are a few dead pixels in the sky. And when we turn around, when we take a moment to see where we are, where we came from, and where we're going, it all comes crashing down. And those shattered dreams hurt like a bitch when they hit you. Like a bitch.
So we try to make it better. Some pass it off as midlife crisis or burn-outs. Some try to take control again, to get off the road. Some just ignore it until it passes. Some put a gun to their head and pull the trigger. But, in every case, except for the last one, we're all back to where we were after a week of holiday and a few drinks. And it would be nice and good, if it weren't for the few dead pixels.