A month ago, my house was filled with Fly Ribbon. As
advertised, these thin strips of sticky, toxic paper dangle from the ceilings
of many households. A formulaic coating of chemicals attract the common house
fly to its odorous trap. Once they have landed on this interesting distraction,
they never leave. At first, the smell of toxins clogged my nose, but it’s a
pain I became familiar with. Soon enough, each dangling roll barely reeked its
original yellow canvas. The living soon became the naive paint. Each day, a
thicker coat of black innocence lined the two-inch tape. Each victim entered
the battle with a determined disposition to conquer, however the Fly Ribbon never
lost a battle. The seductive potion brought these winged fools great
contentment. Regardless, this breeze of relaxation was the cause for each
tragic demise. The flies only died when they submitted to comfort.

I have seen many
harmless beasts fly straight into Fly Ribbon beforehand, however none of
them were flies. Letting materialistic comforts shadow the stage of reality
happens far too often. We place our temporary happiness over everlasting
compassion. Instead of thriving to be the gracious Athenians we have all been
taught to mock, we submit to short term stimulants to feed our barbaric
desires.  I, however, refuse to live a life of comfort. In fact, I do not
believe we are truly living unless we are uncomfortable. Each day opens
and closes with decisions that shape tomorrow. Choosing comfort dismisses any
ambition that make tomorrow worth seeing. We must let our wings take a noble,
unforgettable course, but avoid the desirable Fly Ribbon that chant
their condescending hymn.

originally published on Crybaby Zine