It's always ok.

It’s never that serious. That’s okay. It's always ok.

I have this close friend of mine that was going through a really hard time in life and somehow, there I was, as well going through this really hard time in life. And guess what. That was great. Super great.

Boo hoo.

I’m evil now.

 But see, it was great because if it was happening to them, then I wasn’t the E.T that I was thinking I was; sent from the planet krypton and burdened with all this greatness.Roosevelt didn’t have to waste his precious time after World War 2 recuperation drafting the UDHR. It was spelt out right here. All human beings are equal because at some transfixing time, life sucks for them. Each and every one of them.

Life sucks for the president of that sorority all adorned in the Gucci and Armani, and as well for that new freshman pledge that still wears braces. It sucks for the Lannisters who currently sit on the iron throne, as well as the Starks who are coming for that iron throne. Life sucks for Obama who is criticized for an uninteresting foreign policy, even after the use of chemical weaponry and for Assad who’s just tired of daring America to spice it up by justified intervention. Life sucks for everyone.

Even  Chuck Norris by the way.

After saying something like this you will wait for the very predictable brouhaha from some intellectualized idiots like myself if I wasn’t the one writing this. But yes I know somewhere out there, all of ya’ll are up in arms. At this moment in time I give the hugest shout out to my discussion group members that diligently and occultishly read this blog.

So, like the newest victims of yet another of life’s cruel jokes among other crueler jokes and another superlative form up its sleeve, we were enthused. Not just by the fact that in a few minutes we would be pleased to enjoy Spock and his unequivocally humorous candor, but that as we sat in the car and waited for the bells to chime in gleeful beckon for yet another experience of 21^st century entertainment, sardonic conversation was occupationally the best sort of therapy.

 We were like hey! Life sucks for me and you! We have so much more in common now. Yey.

As we shared  about life’s suckiness, we mutually and without trace of societal and sociological duress contended that living was taking away life. It’s not that we wanted to die, but we just wanted life to galvanize the living process and operation.

All we could see was the harmatia of  life itself in all its greatness; a vampirism energized by the undeniable realism of living, and growing up, and having feelings for people. Yeah, especially that last part.

As we blamed life for our demise (which is really an immature thing to do), we observed how living had morphed ironically into a mortifying context of existence. Yes. Another immature comprehension of the situation. But with each end in a part of our version of “Life Sucks,” (New York best seller and highly grossing film to everlastingly grace the box office), we each had our epilogue for the other, comprising single sentences of personal words that adequately sufficed to conclude and reprise after the hearing of the following part.  We said to ourselves, “It’s never that serious.” “That’s ok.”

Life had us placed at a point where internally, any such equivocation about the truth of what was going on, was coupled with another external prevarification, that were those sentences we kept on telling ourselves.

There we were desperately trying to convince ourselves that whatever was happening wasn’t that serious and in fact it was ok. We were trying at own therapy and super awesomely playing the song “therapy” by Relient K up on that stereo.

We were envisioning ourselves driving through the country just to drive, with only music and the clothes that we woke up in. We saw ourselves never thinking we’d need all this time alone and all of it just going to show we had so much yet needing nothing but everything that wont remedy a thing.

It was getting really tiresome for me I guess burrowing all the time. When life sucks you need  desperately for someone to tell you that its ok; whether by hearing that they are going through a suckish time or literally hearing the words blurted out. So when you are in a burrow by yourself, you say the words out loud for yourself as you did in the car. You make believe the Elizabeth Bennet version of you telling yourself in a British accent that, it’s never that serious and that it’s ok. It is always ok.

Then you get out of the car. Lock it so that life doesn’t get suckier by the occurrence of a robbery, walk yourself to the cinema and show that one ticket for Star Trek. 

Spock always does the trick, doesn’t he?

 And then practice the most contemptuous, trenchant and derisory smile for your discussion group mates that will want to sign you up for counseling after reading this entry.

Relax guys. It’s never that serious. That’s ok. 

And sometimes those words with all cynicism aside, are the truest statements that can be made.

 Because in truth;

1.      It’s never ever that serious.

2.      That’s okay.

It’s always ok.

“ Loneliness and Solitude are two things not to get confused. Cause I spend my solitude with you. I gather all the questions of the things I just can’t get straight. And I answer them the way I guess you do. It’s my therapy.”

RELIENT K