So often we celebrate those who can make change in society, yet we often forget those who have ability to make great change to themselves.
Sometimes we grow cynical, thinking leopards do not change there spots. Or we want to see them fall flat on their face. Privately, we sometimes root for their demise to reinforce our own stale ways. Publicly talking about them, self-assured rhetorical conversations with people who will reinforce our private thoughts. Gossiping about them, in wank-less circle jerks. Too many curmudgeons, being clever and ignoring their own hierarchy of needs through this convenient exercise.
There is just as much resistancejust as much risk and just as much hostility for the individual. However, it is not an angry mob with their torches and masses that can be broken or avoided.
It is much more sinister. It is the brooding place where all the ideas of ghosts and spirits were born. Ideas that imprison us, yet there are no bars to grasp. Howls of the night that keep us up, yet no beast to chase away. Ideas that suppress us, that harass us into being self-sabotaging that regurgitate what was spewed on to us
So many great novels never written cause people never put them to ink. So many great pictures never taken cause people never thought of caring a camera. So many smiles shunned. So hugs unshared. So many views hidden. All for what?
So many zombies, just zombing around.