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White Trash

There is no hope, really. And that’s okay. Because there are so many things. What’s neat about things is that they are there. Even when they are not doing anything, things are intense. Especially, at night.

If you stare at things long enough, like, when you are in your room, you can sometimes see things, see things that are not there. This makes things hopeful. Even if you don’t have a lot of things, like, if you only have a bed or a shopping cart or a pet cat, you can still find stuff along the surface of them, if you look at them long enough. There’s mystery there, in things. And that’s really, really nice.

Sometimes things are so bad it’s hard to do anything. Even stare. Like, it’s more fun to do nothing. To not care. I think a lot of people try to not care, but somewhere on them they really do care. And that’s nice. But, it’s also nice to not care sometimes, too. To say “So what.” It’s funny, but it’s hard to respond to somebody who says “So what.” There’s really no way to answer somebody who says “So what.” And, in a way, that’s kind of neat.

“So what.”