Just A word I Want To Murder

Oh, how I wish I had met you sooner! Your simple magic of fashioning logical answers in such an easy clean sweep is brilliant! Your profound guidance is everything I need to thrive in life. Become a God so I can worship you, please. Tell me I am worthy enough to follow your skilled reasoning to the end of the Earth. I want to bottle you up. I want to marry you. I want you to be my clever tattoo.

I kid, you sonofabitch. The truth is, I despise you.

In my mind, you are immortal. I have killed you repeatedly, yet you persist in existing. I have destroyed you both quickly and creatively, yet you still breathe your stink on me.

Just …

Just …

Just …

Say it again! I beg you to tell me some more how easy it is. Offer that same lame advice twenty more times, and maybe I will finally understand your generic wisdom.

To think that all this time I could have set aside the money I wasted on therapy and medication for trips to Disneyland and friendship bracelets! Goddamn, man, I could have a mountain of accomplishments and a fountain of orgasms if only I had just ___________.

“Just think about how lucky you are.”

That is the baseline of my inherent, sticky guilt.

“Just remember, it could be worse.”

Ah, that makes anxiety melt in the panties.

“Just take a deep breath and count to ten.”

Can you show me first, on a boat, in the middle of an ocean?

“Just focus on the positive instead of the negative.”

My God, you are a genius.

“Just take a walk and cool down.”

This sophisticated philosophy wooshes the fuck over me.

“Just do it.”

Nothing gets through to me like an enthusiastic sports shoe.

If only life were as plain as your idiot brain. How lovely it would be to wave away all the complicated things. How I would welcome the extra time your divine advice would provide. I want to live in a world where you write all the fortune cookies. I want your easy as pie reasoning applied to all facets of life.

But it doesn’t.

You can belittle my shit a thousand more times, and still, it endures. You are a naive, babbling baby dinosaur, reality is a comet, and my phrenic funk is a roach.

I would tell you it isn’t that easy, to just do whatever obvious thing you submit. But you are too busy ignoring your own suggestion, or else wouldn’t you just shut the fuck up?