When you really think about it, the world's a big orange. The outer crust, the peel, the gritty shield to the world... It's something. I haven't put my finger down on what it represents yet, but it definitely represents something. The fleshy interior, the desired only part that truly matters... is also probably something. I'm normally a lot better at these sorts of things, so like, give me a minute here, alright? Coming up with analogies on the spot is hard. Is this an analogy? It might be a metaphor actually, I'm not too sure. Does it really matter? Maybe. Maybe it does.

What if my wife's an orange? I actually saw her again, had a whole talk and everything. I'm starting to get the impression that she might wanna divorce me, mighta rushed into things marrying her day one. The whole "you carried me once, wanna be my wife?" angle really doesn't work out too well long term. I guess relationships are supposed to be built on more flowery stuff than that, stability and whatnot. I don't get why though? I don't think I've ever got that really. Mutual dependance, constant openness, all that gets you is stabbed in the back and thrown in a tub kidneyless. We're all ugly inside, aren't we? Is the point of relationships showing people that ugliness and seeking acceptance?

What if that's all relationships, and not just stupid love affairs? If all relationships rely on that shit, have I ever actually had one? It feels like my entire life, I've been spewing bile and hoping it sticks. I never had many friends... ever, really. I wouldn't call them that at least. People have always been kinda boring, they don't get it, the bigger picture I mean. Our lives are controlled by big old invisible hands that act behind closed doors, keeping us sick, complicit, and docile. Our agency is locked behind wealth, class barriers, the basic structures that form our world. Why? Why are they allowed to do that? Power is only an idea, a concept that only takes on meaning if you let it. A dog is only ever on a leash voluntarily, the option to maul their master always exists. It's cowardice, fear, an aversion to uncertainty. It's pathetic. People should want to do something, to make something of themselves. I don't wanna live through the day-to-day monotony of life, I want everyday to be an adventure. I want constant challenges, constant adversity to keep my kicking. Certainty, mundanity, predeterminism bullshit, that's what kills you. Your body might still be kicking, but your spirits gone.

What if people are oranges? They've got this peel around them, that perfectly crafted exterior that they flaunt to the world. Inside there's that ugliness, the flesh, the real you. It's the you that dreams of adventure, of rising above your rank and being something, someone. All these people, these random faces you see walking the streets, are they oranges? Or has complacency rotted them? It's always the fruit that rots first, never the peel. They're walking husks, fake people, dead oranges ruining our appetites. That rot spreads, their stupid notions about what is and what isn't possible, they pass it on like a plague. One orange goes bad and starts raving about how happy they are with their life, how their 80 hour work week makes them feel "SO SATISFIED!!", and they convince you that it's normal. If they're happy, why aren't you? Your standards MUST be too high if I can put up with it, you're just weak.

It makes me sick. All of it, all of it makes me want to hurl. I keep trying to force myself into thinking that any of this shit is salvageable, that there's something positive that we can foster her. There just isn't though. There's no point in caring about these people, they've already made up their minds. They're happy with the rot, it's comforting even. They never get thrown a curveball, they never know the joys of ripping off a peel. It's sick. It's all just sick. Precious resources are being wasted on these sacks of shit, why should they get to eat while dreamers starve? There are plenty of people now who COULD act, COULD attempt to change something, they just refuse to. They're worthless. No amount of encouragement could ever get those lards to revolt.

Something about oranges, that's what this was supposed to be about. There has to be some sort of throughline to this rant, a lesson to learn. Is it that we're all just pieces of shit? That nothing matters because no ones willing to fight to change a damn thing? That can't be it, that's the same logic those sacks of shit use. What if it's that I'm the only real person left? That I am the last orange alive? The rest of the world has already succumbed to the rot, is that it? 

If I'm the last orange, why should I care about these relationships? Why should my wife hating me matter if she didn't in the first place? I have yet to see evidence that she exists, that she's not just another drone acting out the movements of a person. This could all just be a blight of the human mind, a natural sickness that takes hold of us. Would that make my husband exempt? The man lacks a heart, a human's soul, and yet he still showcases certain yearning that others lack. He was made for a purpose, to uphold the status quo, and yet he dares to try and break free. He rejects what his makers wanted out of his existence and craves to find his own meaning. Does that make him an orange too? Are him and I the last real people left on this world? 
I'll write here again once I learn more on this orange experiment, once I find some sort of greater meaning to it all. 

In other news, I'm having sardines for dinner.