The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it. Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it, in order to protect itself from this mad city. While consuming its environment the caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive. One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the butterfly. The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar. But having a harsh outlook on life the caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak and figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits
People who romanticize sadness aren’t really sad. They are just bored.
Real sadness is not something I would wish on anyone or anything. It’s a cage. One that you are aware of. One you can see the outside from. One that you try to get out of. One that seems to lack an exit. So you start to doubt yourself and your skills and your worth as a human being. This doubt leads to frustration and anger and self hate and despair and a whole list of other negative shit that impedes the same progress you so desperately want. Then the small tasks become difficult feats.
And before you know it, you are Sisyphus. And nothing in life makes sense except the cage that you want to get out of.
That’s what sadness is, not the flowery nonsense these wordsmiths and authors write about.
In this country a black man only have like 5 years we can exhibit maximum strength, and that’s right now while you a teenager, while you still strong or while you still wanna lift weights, while you still wanna shoot back. Cause once you turn 30 it’s like they take the heart and soul out of a man, out of a black man in this country. And you don’t wanna fight no more. And if you don’t believe me you can look around, you don’t see no loud mouth 30-year old muthafuckas