The Shadow of the Chair

This is less of a poem and more of a rant on philosophy. When you read this don't think I hate philosophy, I just discuss it more than in natural for a non-philosophy major/professor.

Sometimes people over analyze. Yeah, sure it’s great that we have cognizant abilities and we exercise them, hell, go ahead and stretch them a little. But really don’t pull any muscles. Like philosophers, the ruiners of enjoyment of life. Too much thinking just makes them lose reality and meaning like saying the same word over and over and over again until it stops making sense. Then once you start questioning things that really aren’t a question you find yourself wondering why about other things. Why I am alive? What is the meaning of love? Who is God? Does God want me to kill this person? Is this chair really a chair, is it even here? Soon you find yourself in a deep, dark depression because the world isn’t what it seems to be at all. It’s a place full of fake shadowy chairs and fake plastic people, like trees. Then something hits you, some wondrous little miracle tucked away in the folds of the mind comes out like a speeding bullet and shatters that depression of over philosophizing with a “What the F**k?”
I am sitting in this chair… F**k You!

Author's Note

There are most likely a few typos, I copied and pasted from a facebook message.