that is the tragedy. an entire world of misguided people, chasing things they desire but do not own, blind to the things they already have. always so taken in, so utterly transfixed, on the green grass on the other side of the fence. because seeing another have something you do not own always makes it a hundred times more desirable, does it not? greed and jealousy, at its finest. so subversive, because it runs in the nerve impulses whose pathways were linked by the patter of words on our windows.
"his success can be attributed to his talent."
"you have money? come in."
"be happy; you have more than that guy over there."
to have is to be happy.
to have more is to be happier.
to have all is to be the happiest person alive.
to have less is reason for you to desire to have more.
you are never happy with what you have, as long as there is someone who has something you don't.
in my longing to comprehend these vast creatures of mathematics and social science and foreign syntax, lying in that dust grovelling in fuming frustration wishing I could just know and just have as much--I suppose I never realised I was creating things with my own hands that made them jealous.
just as jealous of me as I am of them.
and here you are, thinking dejectedly that they, the mathematicians and physicists with all the accolades glittering on their shelves and all of the world working in their favour, are sneering down upon you, mocking you raucously--how silly you look as you stare, not-understanding, at a dumb sheet of formulae.
when behind their backs they hide clasped fingers; behind their clean smiles they hide aching hearts, hearts that wish they knew how to spin songs the way you do.
(something as little and simple as that. something they should have no reason to want. something you don't really take notice of.)
that is the tragedy.
