That High-Pitched Ring Only You Can Hear

Some day I'll understand it all... right? Isn't that the point of fucking life? You sit around and either mope over or ignore your mistakes. You poison your brain with thoughts, circling obsessive thoughts with names like "love" or "HER" or "hate" or "death"or "pain" all the while forcing a smile to your lips whenever someone asks you how you're doing, if you're well, before they turn a half-hearted ear your way for four seconds then walk away, forget you, pushing you out of the path of their obsessive circling thoughts with names like "me" and "greed" and "sex".
Well what's next then, people? Tell me, darling, what voice is it nagging at you to do this, feel that, conform, believe, entertain, support and support and heal the deflated ego at the cost of your pride? What is that little annoying buzz, that high-pitched sound only you can hear? Why is it the grasshopper can't chirp alone without making you resent its life for dragging you out of the trance you became comfortable labeling existence? Why is it that we allow ourselves to be destroyed, to be claimed and owned by things? By people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, clothing, girlfriends, wives, husbands, lovers, disease, laziness, pain, helplessness. All learned helplessness! Why is it that all we consider to be worth anything at all is what crumbles beneath our feet leaving us to grasp at what remains? Those things remaining to own us, break us, destroy us-people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, disease? Does one soul on earth believe in the greater good? That all is love, without love there would be no creation? Without passion, there would be no life, no art, no music, no writing, no Brand New giving me goosebumps by performing "Sowing Season" as I type, completely wrapped up in myself... Without passion there would be no creation. And so it is logical to conclude that if in fact, one were to believe in God, label it creation, and give it a personality, that personality would be characterized by passion...by love. One would assume.
Passion is my new name for god.
I think that instead of living to be owned, to be broken, to be diseased and destroyed and disabled in your own life, there should be an alternative. There should be a venue for hope. There should be more passion, more creation, more love.
So how would one go about spreading such a RADICAL notion? A notion that Septimus Warren Smith himself would raise his eyebrows at, demand an envelope to record it, drive himself to the window to defend and smile knowingly at the one person alive that understands that he could not be owned, could not be labeled or captured or poisoned by people or religion or government or money or drugs or disease or his lover.
How would one go about saying....
Love.
Everything is love.
All things created were created through passion.
All things created were created through love.
All is love.
All is death.
All is reality and delusion.
All that you can ever do is spread it on in the biggest way you can.
Never conform, never BELONG, never believe or become a part of a system not working in the name of love or struggle to fill a role you weren't made for.
How do you go about saying....
DO NOT FEAR.
No inhibitions.
All is love.
Have no fear.
Only through misunderstanding is there hatred.
Only through mistakes is there pain.
Only through mistakes do we learn.
Only through mistakes will we get where we're going, where we're meant to be.
Fear only gets us bought.
Bought by people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, clothing, girlfriends, wives, husbands, lovers, disease, laziness, pain, helplessness.
Fear only gets us controlled.
How do you go about saying...
I love you?
How do you go about meaning it?
By abandoning all fear.
By living love, creation, passion.
All is love.
All is death.
All is reality.
All is illusion.
Before you can truly love any single individual person, you must first embrace all of creation. Embrace passion. Embrace art and music and beauty. Embrace yourself.