We are George Orwell’s Acid Trip

Hyperfast digital force blasting from all directions.. This reality is a twisted science fiction novel, it is a bad episode of Black Mirror, it is terrifying and exhilarating. I have a hard time thinking about anything other than impending doom. 1984 looms over us like a set of guidelines instead of a dystopian nightmare that it really is.

I was born in 1986, two years after doomsday. Imagine being born now? What will children born now get to see? Humanity is crumbling like a gingerbread house on Valentines’s Day.

I often think we are just a figment of some dark overactive imagination. I don’t know if it’s comforting or terrifying to think that we are so small and vast at the same time, all contained within a teardrop or fleeting moment. Big brother is watching, but I am an only child.

I am NOT the center of any universe and I am not going to be shut down. I am just a satellite revolving around a rock in space. Sex is on the backburner. I haven’t written about love in awhile because it hasn’t been a concern of mine.

I am sick of thinking about what other people are thinking about me. Does he like me? Does she think I’m sexy? Does he want me? Does she like “like” me? Or naw? I’m confused, I know I am worthy so why isn’t this easier? There is so much more.

I worry too often about what people think of me. I should spend less time dreaming about a mate and more time dreaming about the changes I need to spearhead immediately. Most of those changes reside within myself, I control my own destiny still right?

I am an artist. I am a catalyst. I am a psychedelic force to be reckoned with. I will not give up just yet. Put light on shaded issues, shed safety on the lonely, and make people feel loved with open arms, hearts, and kitchens.

Go on walks and say hello to everyone you see. Have random conversations with people, you never know who you will talk to. People are interesting and vast pools of knowledge, we need to learn from each other. It is like eating local honey, getting exposed to the native pollen of your people, the collection of ideas from your neighbors. It is happening all around you, be a bee, do not let yourself become extinct.

Nobody will protect you, certainly not the oppressive government. Nature is not safe, resist, do more than cut the plastic rings from pop cans. Do not endanger the species of the open hearted, the free spirited youth that lives in us all.

We are the colorful tag in the garbage dump. We are the spot of glitter in a dustpan. Sparkle. We must defy the ban on individuality that is keeping us on a blank slate, we must graffiti it with importance, messages of revolution and distinction. Rebellion is necessary, the thought police will not take me, not without a fight of mass proportions. Be dirty, be bold, stop for no one.

Art is not a lost dream. I met two different people today that had a dream of being in the arts before giving up and going into law. They were both staying in the hostel taking the NYS Bar exam, which of course is hard. If it wasn’t difficult they wouldn’t want it so bad.

So many people who stayed here are the ones who will change the world. One went to school in NYC- the same school that Woody Allen went to- to study film. He said it was just expensive and cut throat. The beauty he wanted to capture was clouded by the dark reality of the world. He gave up due to the competition and greed, then went into law where that just doesn’t exist, haha. Another girl was a theatre major and then switched to law when she didn’t see any money in the arts.

I knew there would be no money, but who needs that when you have passion and motivation? I am in the process of helping to organize a show for Women’s Month, and I have the chance to make sure it is Intersectional and all inclusive. This is revolution! Taking charge and make sure things are right.

Sometimes you just need a walk around the block. Breathe in the global warming induced indian summer. I feel so satisfied. Former cow a year now vegan. Former stage fright now fearless ONLY on the seduction of the stage, the lights amplify my rage. I will never dance in a cage.

I must sing, the cat on the outside of the bars salivating for the soft sweet feast. Gently weeps the trapped Bird of paradise. Watching you trip so eloquently getting older, under the sea vagina fish. Why are you barking? Untamed growing beast trying to assert her dominance. A squeaky toy that has been de-squeaked. Torn to shreds a dead interlude, a break between bliss. Better than silence.

I can’t go to a Black Lives Matter rally and then go to a white supremacist’s birthday party. I want to enter radio station contests and go on internet dates. I am an island in a golden sea of polyamarous couples. I am a dumpster orange now in the back of a car filled with protest signs. I am now important fuel for the revolution. It will be fed.

Feast on waste. Alternative and creative sustainability. I love my furry family. I met a woman who was me in the future, she lived above a bong shop and dated men half her age. We agreed that most animals are better than people and androgyny is beautiful. Hey! Look! My cat did all the dishes! When was the last time your boyfriend did that?

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