Cat Collins xo

I was waiting for aaron to pick out pants yesterday in this outdoor store. I started reading this fuckin’ book that was supposed to be about talking to animals, but it was just this white lady blowing smoke up her own ass. Her dad was a forester and she lived in the woods eating hunted meats. Great for fucking you lady. I grew up in PG county, eating Lunchables and McDonald’s and the occasional blue crab. I still knew and know how to talk to neighborhood cats and dogs and squirrels and birds and caterpillars all just fine.

I mean I get what she was saying: you are what you eat and she’d rather be wild. But she neglected to truly acknowledge that she like the rest of us didn’t have much choice over what she was raised eating. Yet she seems to take all the pride and credit for it. I just thought she was going to talk about how to emulate wolves or whales to be more in tune with our innate animal instincts and thereby be more at peace. Maybe she got around to it. 

Everywhere you look everyone’s like “look at me! I’m special, I’m really oh so special!” It’s exhausting. The trick is that nobody’s special at all. We’re all just fucking ants crawling all over the Earth’s surface. Now, we’re even venturing out of her atmosphere—flying ants.

I happen to like ants, though. I just wish we could all get caught up in a meaningful task together instead of wasting time proving we’re special. It’s some archaic social device to ensure our survival and it’s boring. Who wants to cling to survival that way? Isn’t it better to live?