Letter to the Listener

Why hello there, fellow avocados.

I must say, its been a long time since I've seen any of you around. From a decent audience to a simple reader, I've seen not a hint of you lot for the past few years.

Not to say I'm not glad to see you, if I see you at all!

You are welcome here whenever you choose to honor me with your presence. But, since man is so convinced that hes been created with two ears so he can take them for granted and abuse them as he sees fit, I doubt you'll honor me any time soon. (But I've got two! I've got cells to spare!)

Really now?

Ah, never mind this talk. It'll do me no good to hurl blame here and there, now would it? My, my, and how immoral as well. I'd never dare stick my head up to face the deaf, deafening waves!

For he who listens to those who cannot listen eventually loses the ability to hear.

I take it upon myself to forget all your faults and all your wrongs, because, ofcourse, if not for me, where be you? It is entrusted upon me to forget everything, but never forgive it, so that my actions come from sheer ignorance and my aftermath is that of pure hate.

If eveyone decided, in unision, to record every wrong you, along with the salty currents that rush to your aid at the merest word, have fallen into, you'd not stand before us today.
You'd be wiped away--swept away--by the force of your own horridity, your own faults.

And who are you to say we could not be whomever we wanted to be?

Because no, we do not deserve it. Only until we learn to truly defend ourselves will we have a place in the world. We were not born this way, but raised this way. We were not made to be this way, but absorbed from our surroundings what it is that defines us.

It may not have always been our choice, but here we are, and our presence is indeed our choice, for everyone one of us, I assure you, possesses at least one kitchen knife at home. And it is of our own force, our own will, that we do not touch it.

And to walk a path below the pikes we mounted only days before, to creep into the lands we'd believed was now ours and free is beyond comparison to any other pain. The places we thought we'd achieved victory upon, the enemies we believed we'd overcome only a short while ago, now torn away from us.

It is then, when you discover that the jungles of your mind are yet to be conquested, are yet to be defeated, are yet to be reeled in and tamed after this long trek of life where you'd believed you'd come so far...It is agonizing. Painful beyond repair.

Never forget, dear listeners, if there are any of you left out there, the pain of realization.

It is not Death that hurts us, but the realization that we shall never again see this beloved person as we used to. It is not the shabby, beaten road of life that presses us for misery, but the knowledge that our bare feet will never again be the same after the journey.

Take care of what you know, but more importantly, of what you do not know, for it is always the most dangerous.

Take your time, for slow and steady may not gain you first place, but will ensure you make it to the finish line in one piece.

Follow the example set by the rain. It falls from so high only to climb back to its rightful place up there, regardless of prior knowledge that it will agian be sent to the ground.

If not for determination, what does a feeble man have to offer?

And I will pretend that the devil does not exist so that hopefully, I can blame all my faults on myself, and seek to better my own rather than hurl the burden of alteration on forces not under my sphere of influence.

And with this, I shall say good-bye, hoping I have cleared up a litte, if anything, of the fog upon your windshield. Good night to the men and women of the world, and though nature itself wishes otherwise, I hope you awake both healthy, and well.