I have a theory

So I've had this theory for a little while now, and I just wanted to share it all with you. It's about bigfoot, and how I'm pretty sure I just solved the mystery as to why nobody has found indisputable proof that he exists. Are you ready for the answer?

Bigfoot is in fact an alien. I know, when I had this epiphany it totally blew my mind too. It makes so much sense though. Think about it for a second. Just let it soak in. 

We humans have this preconceived notion that aliens are supposed to have big heads and be green or whatever, but do you really think all aliens would look the same? I don't. I mean it does seem like a giant humanoid figure covered in hair would be a bit primitive, but that's probably just because we've so readily accepted the theory of cavemen and the missing link and whatnot. But what if bigfoot wasn't just an animal? What if a tall, hair covered creature could actually be more intelligent than us?

I'm actually a little surprised no one has ever thought of this earlier. I mean, there have been tales of both aliens and bigfoots for centuries. Maybe these UFO sightings that have been recorded by ancient Aztecs are of UFOs that carried the very bigfoots that many Native American tribes told stories about. 

This would actually explain a lot. For instance, it explains why no real bigfoot carcasses have ever been found. It explains why there are so many sightings and no captures of the creature. Maybe these aliens truly believe in the motto "take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints." I wish more people were like that. 

So there you have it. I've just made the biggest discovery of the century. 

Revenge Is Far More Bitter Than It Is Sweet.

I locked my eyes on the backstabber and shuffled my black shoes slowly, quietly, so as not to bring attention to myself. It was to no avail, for he caught a reflection of my contorted face in the mirror. I could see his lips form an apology. I inched closer and he cried out "hypocrite!" I couldn't hear him. I was deafened long ago, but I later heard from passersby that this was his final word as I dug my knife between his shoulder blades and stood watching the warmth drain from his body, the blood pooling on the pavement. 

This isn't Torture. It's called Living.

If everyday life is a breeze, something is dangerously wrong. Life is full of kicking and scratching and screaming and running and tripping and falling and, and, and. A struggle, that's what life is. Those not struggling for the most part are simply disillusioned into thinking they're normal. They're not normal. They are the furthest thing from it. Yes, there are glorious moments in life where everything makes sense, people don't hurt each other, the weather is wonderful, our bodies are healthy. But it is a fight to get to these moments. I can't just float through this world unawares of my surroundings. I clumsily make my way through dusty streets and alleyways, tripping and pebbles and boulders and piled-up trash. I trip more than I walk sometimes, but I make it through and onwards and towards where? I don't really know. But I need somewhere. 

My knuckles have been bloodied, my face is sweating, my bones have been cracked and broken. But money won't fix that, sex won't, drugs won't, vengeance won't, etc. Those are the reasons I've been bloodied up in the first place. And it makes the calm quiet peaceful joyous moments that much more powerful. Living detached and disillusioned by the painfully appealing assurance of money and comfortable living deny us the chance to fully appreciate the good in life. So let's not settle for this imitation. We desire true peace, love, joy happiness, love, community, hope, love, grace, truth. And it's here, but it's a struggle to get to sometimes. Life is not something to coast through. It's something to be experienced.