I Am 32

How does it feel to be 32? It feels like  one of the most useless questions in the world. I’ll  answer anyway. It doesn’t.

Times is a red herring; a scapegoat. Time machine? F*ck time machines. If I could go back I’d do the same thing again.

It’s all the god damn chemicals. It’s all the chemicals in the brain that do the real damage. Age isn’t sh*t. Chemicals turn you into a winner. Chemicals turn you into a loser. Something happens. Something doesn’t happen. It’s all recorded. It’s all electricity. It’s all the way the little neurons work; and they don’t like to change mid-shift.

I have a picture of myself as a child holding a baby chicken at arms length with a terrified expression on my face. All the other kids cradled them to their breasts. Chemicals. Electricity. Chickens would shape be the shape of my life. I am chemicals. I am electricity. I am a chicken. I don’t want to do things differently.

How does it feel to be a chicken? That is the question.

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One comment on “I Am 32

  1. jason says:

    What of the immeasurable, undefinable, ethereal human spirit? Truely genetics plays an influential role; however, can we can dismiss environmental considerations and different socialization processes that govern and shape behavior?

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