There comes a time when you get this realization... this epiphany... this intense moment where God decides to kick your nuts and the pain is so extreme that it travels up your body and gives you a splitting headache.
The splitting headache in turn spreads across your body; converting into a full-fledged body ache.
But somehow the pain seems to be concentrated on your back and in your mind.
This has to mean something right? There has to be some sort of connect between the mind and back I suppose. Something beyond biology and all that jazz. Something a little more deep, a little more meaningful.
My theories and the ideas of other people that I respect, often make more sense to me than the scientific bullshit I've been fed throughout my insignificant existence.
I understand that you may be curious as to why exactly the fan rotates and what makes it move.
I'd say fuck it; I switch on the damn button and the fan moves. End of story.
Maybe I'm just not scientifically inclined. But then again I love science fiction. Isaac Asimov; what a charmer.
Epiphany time - I just realized. I would have learnt all of that scientific stuff if it had been taught with the kind of beauty a science fiction novel is written. Even a sci-fi movie's charisma would do.
When you enter a new life, when you become independent, live in your own establishment that is your home and not your parent's, live with strangers who become your friends, do things you wouldn't dream of doing a while back, things your parents can ever dream of you doing, you fuck up, get into trouble, survive, get into shit again, bounce back and so on...
Until that time where there's a road-block. It's not the end of the line. It's not something that is going to stop you from being who you are and doing what you want and doing who you want. But still... it hits your eye.
There is this moment of clarity where realizations decide to make a visual appearance. And it doesn't happen rapidly, in a fast beam of energy. So fast that you can't make head or foot of it.
It happens slowly, gradually, giving you time to think, helping you realize.
It's like this little lady by the lake is telling you that the water is too deep to dive in. She tells you that you can try to swim across the lake if you desire so but it is dangerous. You might make it, might not. She knows that you're a daredevil, a rebel of the highest order; probably without a cause. She wants you to understand that you don't have to prove it all the time. You don't have to jump in the lake.
Not when you can't swim.
Moving on, from one drug to another.
There is no scenario where you will not like this song.