I’m lying on my bed, laughing to and at myself. Sometimes, I can be really stupid. Often, I do a lot of stupid things.
The way I see it, I’ve done a lot of stupid things but I can’t say I’ve done enough. In fact, I’m eagerly awaiting the next set of bad decisions I’m going to make. The next set of unfortunate consequences that I’m going to endure. It gives me a thrill you know, the whole cause and effect thing. This thing is happening as a result of that thing I did. It makes me feel like, I’m in control.
I was saying, I haven’t done enough stupid things. I’m young, therefore, I’m allowed and even expected to be stupid. It’s a cliché I embrace with my whole being.
I just finished reading a book-Forrest Gump-about an idiot. A real idiot. He was always saying, to paraphrase, ”What do I know? I’m just an idiot.” Honestly, I think we are all idiots in our different ways. We try not to over-analyse things as it makes the little understanding we have of them slip through our fingers, like smoke. We just go with it.
Just go with it. Let me be stupid. Let me make bad decisions. It’s okay if I don’t know what I’m doing. Really, who does?