One, Two, Three Marlenas

Sometimes there are a thousand things to say, a million things to express, a bucket of tears to cry and a flurry of laughter to throw into the air, but words have and always will fall short. Words are the limits of our expression, framing the mind into as much as a vocabulary can hold. Words make thoughts tangible, but tangible to a limited degree, tangible as to the lines that we draw around ourselves.

We exist as products of our language, that it is language that constructs us and not us who constructs language, that language precedes us, that we all exist within a pre-existing structure where all our actions and thoughts are pre-conceived and pre-meditated? How different is that from the submissive belief that God is all-knowing and all is up to him, therefore it doesn't matter what we do since he is all powerful and already knows what we're going to do and we're eventually gonna get fucked over by something outside our control? Lacan must've never heard of free will, sitting in his room nursing his black, black heart.

I say a massive "fuck that"; nobody messes up on my behalf.