april's fool

All this time I've been afraid that I'm a fool. But didn't I know that's always true? We're all fools, not just in love, in everything. I'm the jester of pen to paper, the laughter-inspiring idiot. And that's normal. Why should I be so serious? Trees aren't. Cells don't furrow their metaphorical brows while splitting or heating up their mitochondria.
I am tissue. I am flesh. I am imperfect and destined to fulfill my failures, to live, to breathe, to die. There is no human perfection, no graduate student idyll. We are all monsters mascarading as friends, lovers, people, primates. We are collages of thoughts and memories.
So be foolish and let me be a fool. I'll make my mistakes. They are MINE after all. (By this, I do not imply that life or choices are morally relative, only that we each need to make mistakes to learn and live.)
Celebrate spring. Maybe smirk some. Perhaps even don a bright green or golden shirt to break up the uber-chic all-black-charade. Let the earth speak to you, hear it say, "Fool, be new." And stop worrying so much about how cool or foolish you seem.