The world is burning again, he said, as he put his cigarette down. What do you mean, she responded? Think about it, the only thing the world consists of is ideas and mentalities causing friction against each other constantly, only to set fires that grow and become too late to stop. We’re constantly told to either agree or disagree with something but what if it was actually indifference that solved the world’s problems? I mean the only reason I put this cigarette down is because I’ve been told that I’ll burn myself if I wait too long. But what if cigarettes were created to burn us? What if they were an alarm clock created after the industrial revolution to wake us up, burn us back to reality and make us realize that we’re all swimming in an aquarium of bullshit caged by overpriced glass? I don’t know, call me a crazy, cynical, whisky-induced thinker if you care so much to categorize me but really, what if our interpretation of history is completely false? And I’m not talking about this fucking cigarette anymore. What if our ancestors actually had all the solutions to today’s everyday problems but we just figured we knew better and failed for ourselves? The process would never end. All it is is fear, really. Fear of not knowing what’s going to happen, not being sure where our life is going. Would you be more scared of being held at gunpoint if you actually knew for a fact that you’d get shot? I mean think about, the only thing we’re ever afraid of is not knowing the answer and ending to every story. If we knew how things ended, we’d actually make the best of them with the little time we have. We’re afraid of uncertainty and the fact that the cards to our life might be laid down in a different way that we’d like. And then when we become certain of the outcome, our desperation grabs the wheel and ignites a flow of creativity that can solve just about anything. Otherwise we just end up relying on chance and luck to to kick in and hopefully give us what we want. Why are you telling me all of this, she said? No reason in particular, he responded, as he lit another cigarette. It’s just that everyone’s always trying to be so perfect, like a fucking Radiohead song, and here I am trying to dig my fingernails into it just like everyone else. I know I’m not exactly what they call Utopian but I have managed to find something, someone that gives me an excuse to grip onto the idea until my skin turns grey. Someone that gives sense to all this shit. I’m definitely never one to swim in a pool I’m unsure of, and my life can attest to that; but once I find something worth soaking in, fuck I’ll latch onto it until the day I drown.