We have been led into a need for replacement. If your shirt rips or your knives warp then you can simply buy new ones. When your car parts start to wear, your mechanic can order more. You spend money, so that new money may come in. And when the bills fade, they’ll just print new ones! You replace hours with a paycheck so that you can keep replacing more aspects of your life.

People seem to becoming replaceable as well. If your coworker quits because of unstable work conditions, then your boss will put out an ad for a replacement. When your girlfriend leaves you because you just couldn’t put in the effort you’ll find someone else to call ‘baby.’ When your cat finds a corner to hide in while they die, you will be too busy trying to find a kitten to fill the hole.

Sex and death are one in the same. Death is the inevitable crush, but sex is the momentary pleasure of creating your replacement. We replace fear with faith in hopes that it’ll all turn out right. If the pain is too much then just replace it with a little chemical sedation.

However, my thoughts don’t seem to be replaceable. And not even for the idea that my ideas are so great they can’t be redone. They surely can. Yet, if I have a great thought, it’ll stay with me through the night until it’s time to be written down. My terrible thoughts have their own way of sticking around as well. Even when I try so hard to push them out, to replace my bad thoughts is seemingly impossible. Just like my great ideas, they float around, lingering in my skull. But maybe this is a gift. In a world where my clothes, food, companions, lifestyle, career, and even my physical appearance are all replaceable, at least I know my thoughts are intact. For now.