Duck duck screw this game.

I hated this game as a child and yet somehow all my life I have tried to sit in the game and dutifully play it.  Cross legged, waiting my turn to get pat on the head, waiting here in this circle for the fun to begin.  I tell myself sitting here in this circle that if I wait long enough one of my friends will get pat on the head.  And when one of them does get chosen, they will chose me.  But then one does and viola (sic) he or she pats one of the other kids on the head.  So I sit here waiting, waiting.  Feeling more and more dejected because I really would rather be running around and playing.  So at what point does this little girl get up out of the circle and walk away.  Someone might tell you this is a sign of my severe depression.  That I just want to run away.  I should be happy to continue to sit in this circle and enjoy watching everyone else run around in circles.  Right?  But what if I am not content?  What if I think the hamster on the wheel isn’t cute but a sad and pathetic creature who is not in its proper home.  What if I see that running around and around like being on a treadmill at the gym, it smells like shit, you have to fight to get your place, the shit on TV is not the least bit interesting (until a video about the Denali state park in Alaska comes on, but then you are forced to watch it so many times you realized you really would rather be THERE than here watching this video for the 5th time in two weeks), and you are walking and walking but you don’t go anywhere.  Your goal of course is to make your body acceptable to other human beings, because your fat is so vile and disgusting that no one would ever want you.  So you are here with all the other hamsters looking so cute as you run in circles.  Oh but huney you are not a team player.  If you would just be a part of the circle so the popular kids will get chosen you are doing your part.  Right.  That hamster loves running in circles, just like the kit fox at the zoo enjoys pacing back and forth in the artificially darkened day, her big ears shivering from the sounds of children screaming, she loves it so much she eats her own babies rather than have them live in this cage.  You say feeling trapped is a sign of depression?  What if you feel trapped because the confines of our society and culture are trapping you?

I look around me and all I see is endless greed, endless lust, endless suffering, endless hate, endless false fronts and you want me to love this?  You want me to be happy with this?  Why?  It doesn’t work for me, I have tried it.  It doesn’t make me happy.  Will taking pills make me happy?  Yes honey you have a chemical imbalance, you think Christmas is a crock of shit, you think that Brazilian waxing is asinine, you think people are stupid when they tell you that you should have a gas mower when your lawn only needs mowing about 10 times a year, you think that the male having the head seat of the table just because he is a man is ridiculous, you think that women complaining about sitting in the DMV for six hours after they get married only to head on to the Social Security office because they are honoring their husbands by changing their names for him (don’t worry honey it is just preparation for all the times you will give up something of yourself for him while he is off golfing which is a euphemism for fucking other women) is silly…I could go on for days about all the stuff we do in this culture that make no sense to me.  Will a pill make me numb, is that all I need?  What I want and here it is in writing, what I want is to not play the game anymore.  I don’t want to sit in this damned circle waiting my turn (if it hasn’t come in 43 years I refuse to keep waiting), I am sick of watching the same 10 kids run in circles like caged rodents, I am sick of the gym teacher snickering at what a pathetic loser I am for not being a good sport, I am sick of the other players bullying me into staying in the game, again I could go on ad nauseum.

I am realizing that I don’t have to play the game.  I don’t have to get an A in gym, because if I ever do get one I will be teased for the success and I sure as hell won’t get an A for playing duck duck goose.  And I don’t even care anymore about the stupid grade.  I keep trying to say this there is no way to make it clear.  This is not has not worked for me in 43 years and it will not ever work for me.  I want off the wheel, I want out of the cage.

I think hamsters should live here:

Mongolian Countryside

I think Kit foxes should live here:

Kit Foxes

I think we should rename duck duck goose to its real name which is chickens peck the hell out of each other for dominance.

And I think that I should be off doing this instead because it is far more rewarding and well hey it makes me happy and frankly it is better exercise than sitting in a circle watching other kids have fun.

Jonathan Hutton Photo

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One comment on “Duck duck screw this game.

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