The Carnival

The Traveling Carnival is a queer thing. It is a private, self-contained city on wheels. It rolls from place to place, bringing merriment and sadness in equal parts. There is something so incredibly interesting about an entity that is so dichotomous.
Make no mistake, the Traveling Carnival is an entity unto itself. It lives and breathes; it has hopes and dreams. It is a landlocked Leviathan with the collective mind of a small town. That makes it all the sadder that what keeps it from growing and stretching is it’s own cannibalistic nature.
For the society of the carnival to exist it must stay close knit and contained. It keeps outsiders at arm’s length to protect itself from untrustworthy people who would judge it’s inhabitants. That same isolation forces it to fester in it’s own filth. It simply travels from place to place, re-treading the same ground. Never learning and never growing.
The carnival deals in merriment. One goes there for fun a frivolity. Even though the rides are dangerous, the games are rigged and the people distasteful. From a very objective view, there is nothing that should be fun at a carnival.
The people that live and work there don’t like us. That’s part of why it’s so sad. They sell joy and have none themselves. They peddle it all away, at an overly inflated price and keep none back for their own stores.
The people of the carnival wake each day more sour than the last. Every moment that they spend at their daily lives and working their livelihood, they are resentful Some for what others have that they don’t and some just because we’re different.
No matter what we think of them, we are the ones that are different to them. Anyone who is not a part of their insulated community is an outsider. The walls aren’t built on race or money, they’re built on society. It’s all about the society inside the carnival, and outside. We are all on the outside.
This creature, this fun-regurgitating parasite is poison. It lives with a dark heart and is rotting from the inside out. It is kept alive by feeding off of the people it entertains and despises in equal measures. It will ever be slowly dying and growing in concert. It will always be filled with hatred and disgust  just below the glow of midway lights and the smell of cheap beer, cigarettes and popcorn.
The people will always be smiling, and there will always be games to play. There is fun to be had, while the ones selling it are having no fun at all.
That’s why it will always be a little bit more sad than the happiness it brings.

Pingpong Ball and Fishbowl Game

Pingpong Ball and Fishbowl Game (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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