• Mr. H.

    by  • August 20, 2012 • To You • 2 Comments

    For your eyes only.

    Is that you, Mr. H? You hide it well, but perhaps you’re simply unaware of yourself. I know it’s you. I know you so well it’s fucking creepy. Pay attention to what I have to tell you, it’s for your own good. You know you can trust me; I’m the epitome of you, dear friend.

    You need to stop being so greedy. And so, so lazy.

    Nothing holds your interest because something’s always on your mind. What the hell do you want? You don’t even trust yourself to answer. Save for a few things (which are all bad for you), all you want is whatever you don’t have. Well here’s the truth, Mr. H. It cost me everything to bring it here for you.

    Life is scary.

    Seriously, it’s fucking terrifying. Stop trying to man up; ‘grown ups’ stumble upon a piece of knowledge through puberty – you did too, but you’ve fucked it up with drugs or a messed up relationship or something or other which, by the way, is entirely your fault, Mr. H. You need to realise that love (fully focused attention) is to be seeked, not forced. Lazy, that’s what you are. Anyway, ‘grown ups’ are supposed to be developed; not acted. By ‘grown ups’, I mean you dear friend, not the mess that most turn into.

    See, Mr. H. Sometimes love isn’t there to fall back onto. But it will be at some points in your life. If you want more love, don’t spend your money and life clinging to a high, whether that be drugs or a person or a friend. Search for new ones, and be proud of yourself when you encounter them. In times of desperation, everything will simply become more enjoyable. Stop being such a massive stubborn shit. Stop pretending everything is okay. If you think you’d be proud of yourself in a certain situation, get yourself in that fucking situation!

    Life is an adventure. Ignore the shit bits, do what you need to do, and everything will be brilliant. As long as there’s highs to discover, who needs anything to rely on. No one talks about the guy who just got high – there isn’t much to say: that’s all he wanted to do. Obsession is laziness.

    I think, therefore I am.

    You are whatever you think you are. If you’re not… the fuck are you doing? Decide, god damn it.

    And the only things that think you might be something else don’t matter; they’re clinging onto old shit. They don’t deserve your attention. Nothing does unless it’s interesting, duh. If life isn’t interesting enough, you’re gonna be bored as fuck… let’s be honest, Mr H., you get bored easily.

    So farewell dear friend. Live your life how I suggest, I beg you. I wouldn’t lie to someone I know so well.

    2 Responses to Mr. H.

    1. that girl
      August 20, 2012 at 7:02 pm

      A letter to yourself?

    2. Jordan
      August 23, 2012 at 5:51 am

      Yep, kinda. I see Mr H in nearly everyone I meet. He’s a collection of attitudes.

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