There were days, sometime in the distant past, when I used to write and write and write and not care about what goes on in the Matrix. Then those words start to fade in the wind, sucked by turbulences of life. Then quickly replaced by sparse images captured by whatever random lens I could get my hands on. Today a little of that olden memory rages to resurface. I know not what to write, but I know that I shall anyway and not leave this space destitute another decade longer. So here’s to a new beginning, whatever that means, whether it will remanifest, or not. Time will tell.
When you love someone you automatically worry about them. And we’ve been taught that it’s ok to worry for our loved ones. That it’s even necessary sometimes.
Just now having a cold shower — which I haven’t had in months since I’m so accustomed to the comforts of having a hot shower — I had a sudden realization that worrying for someone you love is useless. In fact it can be hurtful and even dangerous when your worries manifest, which they very well have the potential to at anytime, given how much most people worry these days.
To explain this further will only be a failure. I would have to explain the principles of quantum physics and the law of likes, and I know I will do so badly. But if you need confirmation, the oldest book in the world tells you not to worry a little more than once or twice.
How can you love someone and hurt them at the same time? Stop hurting your loved ones, stop worrying!
I was never much of a writer. I’ve always been more of a thinker. That is why I’m writing this post now, as a question to myself to owning a personal blog. One that I never update anymore. Not now anyway, not this decade.
I used to think that by writing I could let my thoughts out from it’s hard shelled prison. Then maybe once they’re in writing, I can finally sleep at night. But I was wrong. Not only because I wasn’t able to express what I mean to express, but also because by getting them out in the open I create a hollow of which the mind quickly fills again. So I end up with gibberish again now both in and out of the mind.
Maybe what I need isn’t an outlet. Maybe I simply need an interpreter. Someone (or something) that could bring meaning to my thoughts. A pencil to pull lines to connect the dots.
As a matter of fact, I think I have found that someone, and she’s sleeping next door. This is why I shouldn’t stay up all night thinking anymore. Because when she sleeps, no one connects my dots and I get trapped in my deep thoughts again.
Oh well, the price of years of insomnia, one I have yet to redeem. Let’s just say I had a life before I met her.
Being one with life is being one with NOW. You then realize that you don’t live your life, but life lives you. Life is the dancer, you are the dance.
i was talking to a friend about a certain individual in my past life and the quote popped in my head:
laziness is the assassin of genius
which when i think about it is very true about all of us. believe it or not i believe we each were given our own “genius” but most of us are too lazy to realize them or even do anything about it.
so if you want to do great things in life, work hard for it.