Math was short today. Math class is always short. Equations' attempt at providing truths is just futile. Science is only slightly better. People slamming their heads against a wall, attempting to make reason out of a world that just is, doesn't help them. They're just lying to themselves, and by trying to make sense out of a world where everything is a lie is simply creating more lies.
Matilda told us a fabulous story the other day. It was about a man who tried to write a book of events, but ended up caught up in the fabricated substances the subjects of his book made up. He eventually brought about the end of the world, but managed to live to tell the tale anyways. It was a good story. Evidently it almost happened once, but that was a long time ago. Matilda's my history teacher. We don't just learn facts like they did in the olden days, we learn about things that could have happened, and the history that would have come from that. That way we can pick our own history. Its mostly a matter of personal preference
rather than importance anyways. None of its true, so you might as well have origins that you like.
English is really the most practical class. Making up lies is really the only thing you can do in a world already so full of them. We don't use any of the fancy language they used to use, just straightforward lies to give relief from the complexities of the lies that make up our lives. Our stories are short and sweet. As is this one. So here I am, lying on the fake grass, lying to you.
No comments:
Post a Comment