cool kills vulnerability. cool kills authenticity. to those that get it, cool is a cancer.

rip Cool, 1942-2018. I’m done with you.

you intimidate my heart and laugh at my faltering attempts to create anything outside of the expected.

you criticize anything out of the norm, but race to adopt whatever new mania everyone else has already concluded to be acceptable.

you don’t think for yourself. chasing you results in groupthink, pretending to care, over-expressing faux emotions, and using too many exclamation points as compensation for an ever-more-vapid soul.

I was liberated by realizing any expression of pure emotion is “inherently pathetic” to you. “too much”?

I am not too much.

for pity’s sake, how is anything new going to be created if the feebly-outstretched hand of creativity is laughed back into a corner because it’s Not Cool Enough Yet?

better – “People Who Matter Haven’t Concluded It’s Cool Enough Yet.” because Cool has, in fact, nothing to do with the objective quality or heart invested in the Work. The verdict of Cool is given by baboon-necked masses, slouched over their phones, all following the same meme accounts and all magically concluding the same opinion of what is and isn’t It.

I will never make you happy. I will always be simultaneously Not Enough and Too Much.

I am happy, so happy, to be rid of your voice in my head. Honesty begets real art. Authenticity begets honesty. And authenticity only steps out of its safe retreat when it knows it won’t be roundly abused in doing so.

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