YOU NAME IT

"THE NAMELESS ONE"

You can get an Uber (Snapp if you're Iranian) and go to the biggest library in your town, or that museum which you've always known has cool shit and you have always made plans to go there on a Saturday morning but hit snooze so many times that it closed. What if you dedicated a few hours of your life to take a glance at the path that humans have taken to get here, this impeccable era of civilization. (If you think I was serious we can't be friends.)

Or visit the library to learn more about our infancy as a species, go to the history section and blow the dust off of its books and open them to learn how we used to be.

How we used to bury black cats between brick walls cause they brought bad luck and we needed to kill them. Or how we used to go to the arenas, just to watch some poor slaves fight it to the death, and determine the fate of the loser with our thumbs. Or how we used to buy million dollar cars while children in Africa were starving....wait?! We still do that????!!!!

Or if you don't like either of those things and don't give a single fuck about what happened in the past, you can always go to the astronomy to gaze at your surroundings, at to get a better look at those alien hotties. Just to forget about what you have to wear going to that party with all the cool people in it.

Look at that galaxy on your left, it might be filled with either mind controlling, telepathically communicating zebras, or might be filled with bloodthirsty aliens. Look at Saturn on your right. If we lived there, we'd wake up to a gorgeous scenery every day. Or look straight on where you'd see nothing but sheer blackness after a certain range, no one knows what lives there. Or on your left next to that beautiful galaxy, you can see a black hole that is really hungry, consuming all in its path. Who knows, maybe one day it'll be our turn.

Or you can always go to that pool party and get drunk, not remembering a thing that night, truly no moral responsibility. (This is the best option isn't it?)

See, I think all that differs awesome guys like me and ones who read this sexy piece of literature between assholes like Hitler and Stalin are the different approaches we take in our lives. One thinks too much and ends up in the mental asylum, whereas one hits the gym on a daily basis and ends up in the magazines.

But then again, if it was that easy being a sexy beast, why aren't we all that? What made that asylum patient...you know, an asylum patient? If that model was in his shoes, could he have had a better result?

Or if anyone else sat behind this laptop, would they have been able to come up with better words and more sentimental sentences to lure you all into reading his book?

The problem is choice. That I don't know if anyone ever makes any.

(TO BE CONTINUED)