I wonder sometimes the meaning of life, not really the meaning of life, the meaning of me.
See i'm quite infatuated with myself, with who i am, with who i'm trying to be, i can't seem to think about to much of the world if i'm not in touch with myself, which is all the time.
So the world, the world in general, the starving babies of Africa, the political unrest in the Middle East, the homeless bums in the slums of Rio, they are in my mind, but not IN my mind.
I am enthusiastic about nothing but what I will do next, what I will be, who I will be, who am I going to see, who am I.
Who the fuck cares but me?
Why does the world not revolve around me? Why does the Government not look to me? Why am I not the leader? Why, when i lead myself, can i not be the leader? Who says i only think about myself? Do i? or is it the culture i live in which says i only think about myself?
Is it culture? Who runs this world anyway?
You? Me?
Maybe the little old man that delivers the catalogues to our mailbox each week?
