Long thoughts

 I once wrote a poem about my long thoughts.  I hated it.

It needs to be in prose (aaarrrggghhh!).  I'm not even sure why I consider it important to point this out.  

I really have had some long thoughts.  Thoughts that first occurred to me in my teens, some fifty/sixty years ago.  They were just interesting aspects of existence that seemed worth exploring.  As the years wore on, some fell by the wayside as I became more cognizant of existence.  Some held on.

I kept them to myself because no one else was willing to explore what it meant to be alive and human.  Oh, I tried to discuss them with others but I got burned for trying.  I learned quickly that no one cared and, so, I played the game to the extent necessary.  Enough to survive, not enough to lose my way.

So, they all rattled around in my head with the most prominent being the general category of, "what is wrong with this picture".  The most prominent of those being, "what is wrong with humanity."  There were just so many things wrong that it was hard to isolate the root cause.  Like it took about forty years.

Once that was done and seems to be becoming accepted or worthy of scrutiny, the floodgates were opened.  (in other words, twelve books to convince myself I'm not crazy; there is still no significant sign that anyone else is willing to accept what I say).  I still have so many, though, that I don't dare reveal.  That remains a bit of a frustration.  I don't feel comfortable revealing them for the reason that the prehuman just cannot cope with them.  Worse yet, it might prejudice my case for the only really important insight: The Nail.

It reminds me of a cleric (priest, preacher, shaman? I don't know which) I met on a plane once that was reading Da Vinci Code.  It was such a striking contrast that I tried to joke around with him.  A preacher reading Da Vinci Code?  He responded, with dead seriousness, by saying he was reading it to find some way to shoot holes in it.  That's what the prehuman loves to do.  They are trained into it from birth.  Especially the religious.  Find an excuse for the misery to continue.  So, no, I'll keep the crazier thoughts to myself.  There is only one with whom I would share them.  Heck, it might repel her, also.