I Want To Be Dumb
Yesterday was weird, everywhere I went there was always a long discussion about whatever topic, and I felt like I was talking to morons. Because whenever I had anything to say, I had to dumb it down so they would understand. I couldn’t say things that they wouldn’t be able to accept, and their responses were so expected. So… default. It was like listening to a tape, a prerecorded program, like I was just hitting buttons on a vending machine, and I wasn’t getting my money’s worth.
I’d like to be dumb, or at least delusional, like everyone else who takes this illusion for reality. I’d like to be dumb, or at least be understood by the morons I seem to be surrounded by. I’d like to be dumb, or at least blind enough to follow a religion full of holes, an old denim worn for thousands of years, faded and torn, holes patched, but still holes nevertheless. I’d like to be dumb, or at least naive enough to accept beliefs that go against what I know to be true. I’d like to be dumb, or at least a little more like you.