Sometimes I wish I was a tree.
Majestic. Chilling like a motherfucking villain.
A tree is stability; not buffeted by any suffering. There’s a calmness and happiness to trees that I fucking love. And it just isn’t present in people’s every day life.
You can write all you want about doing your best to overcome suffering, attachment to sense-pleasures. You can write all you want about reading good books and writing and living the best life you can live according to who you are as a person. Living your own path.
But sometimes… Sometimes you’re not going to write about that. Because preaching about trying to transcend ‘selfish attachment’ and how to ‘live according to your truth’?
If you can feel the hypocrisy in your own words, then most everyone who reads them can too. Don’t even try to fake a moral high ground.