(Source: 0rbiting)
I’m a hypocrite. I’m a hypocrite because I despise hypocrisy in others and yet every day I partake in things that I know to be obscene, every day I act one way around people I know well or feel comfortable around and completely differently around other groups. When I am being completely and unreservedly myself old friends ask me if I’m alright. When I act openly and without restraint on whims and fancies my parents ask me if I’m taking drugs. I openly criticize a system that is broken, a populace that is ignorant, and the rampant materialism that keeps the whole scheme in motion and yet here I am living my life in the thick of it. If we defy augury then I am Hamlet. I am full of words but take no action. I see things that are wrong and do nothing to address them. Sometimes I lapse into spells of morbid thoughts where all of this dawns on me anew and I am horrified by who I am or rather who I’m not. On other days I am perfectly content—beyond content, ridiculously happy , giddy even—to go about my day as usual living my life the best way that I know how. Maybe I’m just a dreamer or maybe I’m still lost. At any rate I suppose that I am a coward.