The Forbidden Zone

Oscar Wilde Died Alone

Me: Why do you always write love stories?
My friend: Why wouldn’t I?
Me: Because you’re fucking brilliant. You have so much potential.
MF: Well, I write love stories so I can get laid.
M: You’re such a good writer, you fucker.
F: Why do you write stories?
M: Well…
F: Yeah?
M: …To create a piece of art that people can connect with.
F: What do you get out of that?
M: Well…you can connect with humanity on a deeper level, than you ever thought possible. By…to cope with some of your own innermost pains, other people with those same inherent pains can feel it as well. And then, then you can grow to understand both human faults and virtue at their barest points.
F: Wow. And?
M: And then one day you can find within yourself a sense of empathy that transcends morals, and religion, and love, and hate. And suddenly when the bullshit fades and you’ve got nothing but this burning sense of human connectivity, then, you know, you’re more a part of your culture and more a part of yourself than you ever were.
F: And?
M: And then, you know. The term “self-actualization.” It’s a real thing, or I believe in it. You’ve tapped into some of the most unreachable depths of the human soul and come out with something. A new thing or a view to see the world differently. And to come to terms with a human being’s both microscopic and all-consuming influence on the universe.
F: What is the reward for that?
M: To have that wisdom, I guess.
F: And what’s the reward for wisdom?
M: …
F: Yeah?
M: … to have that wisdom.
F: The same reward as having an Oreo.
M: …
F: I have a date tonight.

I put my head in my hands and wondered what the fuck am I doing with my life.

r

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