Exit Music
think i’m the only person who doesn’t seem to get all weepy about “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt”. maybe it’s because it’s quoted obsessively by everybody and their mother. or maybe i’m just a pretentious, cynical creep. but i read it and roll my eyes, make a face like i have a rotten taste in my mouth. can you imagine a world like that? that would keep my attention for about twenty-four hours and then i would probably be so goddamn bored i would kill myself. i imagine it and see rooms upon rooms painted eggshell white, closed with doors that never have locks. all of the most beautiful things i have known, seen or felt have been intertwined with different kinds of hurt in one way or another. things which are breakable are precious because they are so. i cannot daydream of things being easy, even as a child i was too aware to be bothered. i can distinctly remember the first time i ever felt hurt — it was a rampage of emotion, a tidal wave of excitement as something new and horrible washed over me that i couldn’t explain or control. it was, and continues to be, a reminder of aliveness and an indication that i care, and love and give a damn. i know i’m taking it a little too far out of context and most people who read this will probably not understand what i mean exactly. but, jeez, every time i see “and everything was beautiful and nothing hurt” i want to puke. stop wishing for perfection. revolutions are not supposed to be comfortable things. just promise to yourself that you will no longer try to gather what falls, and god bless you if you still always do anyway. because the hurt, it’s beautiful too.
