The Red Ideas

I am not someone for everyone and I am not someone for the politics... I figured out today, that there are at least ten negative things that I am, and none of them are things you should envy me...

I am planning to be the next Ceausescu, not that it is important for you to know, but just so you know it. I was planning this in my head, when I sat with my mum and the rest of my family at our garden table. We ate these kind of biscuits that has the pattern of a roof and that taste nothing. I could hear my mum from the distance, but right beside me; complain on the tasteless biscuits. She drew me away from the plans I was cooking in my head. In my aggressive little heart I agree with her at once and I feel her anger and I let it unleash itself. I am good with words, better than most and I yelled it out in a poetic and expressive speech. -'You know it's not the people' I tell her. -'It's the society', I say as she nod and looks at me, waiting for more. -'It's not good for anyone and someone should destroy it by it's roots' I continue. I build myself up like a bull that have noticed a red object. By the end of my lines, I act like a thunderstorm and the more I rage, the more I feel I agree with myself. I just have a tiny voice left when I rest. Then I look at my mum, then I look at my dad and then I look at my brother; to see their reaction. See I love my family, somehow we are great together, with all our differences... -'You should have been a politician' my dad finally says and I linger on it for awhile before I think to myself that -'Yes I should have been'... but my brother is the genius of us two, and he always knows more than his kindness is willing him to express. I know he is always trying to find the right words, before he speaks. -'You are more of a poet' my brother then says and leaves the silence to rule for minutes that feels like hours. -'You are good at something else' he adds and my mother agrees... Why do I have to yell like this then?, my brother smile at my rages, forgives me for my often artistically cruel words, tells me he cares... and inside myself I want to be loved, more than him... Inside myself I know, I would never be a good politician... I feel misunderstood and in these situasions, it's usually me that leaves to be with myself. There in my lonely corners I find my crueleness and I wipe away a little tear upon it's discovery. I never wanted to be this way...

Sitting here by myself, I get into my plans on world domination again. I want to have a red armed war chariot in my backyard, to take out every time I menstruate and shoot at random civilians. Afterwards when I climb out of the tank machinery and light a cigar with my "suit and tie male" friends; I will show them my little fist, shake it firmly in the air and clap them manly on the shoulder while I smile and say; -'I love this country, it's such a good place to live in, I feel so liberated, this is what I was truly fighting for; you and us together!' Then we will go into my expensive building and drink whiskey and talk about sports and things that have no meaning...

Eventually they would kill me of course, shoot me in the neck without hesitating, without a shiver or a goodbye, without asking me why I were doing these things... Who cares in a world with no depth?... I dont like these biscuits, they looked much better in the TV commercial and the people were happy there too... See, a part of me used to like Ceausescu, a part of me believed in something... good in every man... I had a friend once, a nazi kind of guy, he liked Ceausescu too. I liked my nazi friend, but I didn't like that he liked Ceausescu, because I didn't want us agree. See, I never liked Nazism, but my nazi friend often told me he were not a nazi and I liked him for that...

I remember I sat and watched TV the night they killed Ceausescu, the censured film that they shot him on. I didn't like my nazi friend the same way anymore then, I didn't like my aggressions and ideas and I didn't like Ceausescu... I have tried to put them away for good, but somehow I have always been bitter ever since...

I've never really liked biscuits, it's always just been a social thing for me to eat them, I just never wanted to be different, to stand out... I feel something unique when someone agrees with me and maybe that's why I tend to find that it's worth screaming for... I always think it's too hot in the summer, just the way I feel it's too cold in the winter and very often my words doesn't express what I had planned for them... When it comes to the red things; strawberry have never been one of my favorites, but in my own aggressive ways; I do love my family...