It’s hard for me to figure out what I want to do with my life because
I want to participate in normality
And that tends to encompass the majority of things
I don’t want to fight for:
Grades and jobs that entail
Bending over backwards to show people my worth.
I don’t want to be under-worked and underpaid and underestimated because of my age.
I want to be respected as a human, with ideas.
That seems like decades from now, possibly.
But what ridiculous thing can I do if I choose to run against the system?
It all amounts to shame.
What if I don’t want to solve the world’s problems?
What if I just want to be, because everything is essentially meaningless anyway,
Except for the joy of people, and even that’s temporary to their existence.
Saving the world is such a reckless idea.
Who said the world needs to be saved?
What said it can be? Continue reading Non-Poetic Rant from the Armchair: “Not Saving the World”
My sweet devil,
Gotten so comfortable with falling apart.
Like the dried up stream,
I run from.
At times I’m fooled.
The stream is still dry.
A quest to find some spark,
My loving tears
Can’t turn a wasteland to a park.
What is it?
Books, songs, dances,
I see nothing.
Sometimes so foreign,
Just like laughing.
I’ve erased them.
Nothing really worth it.
No difference can be made.
Living to live,
Continue reading “Art…”
I never understood why when adults went to work, they always complained about it, wishing their time would pass by quickly so they could get to the eternal destination, the weekend. The idea that you want to make hours of your rather limited lifetime simply disappear seemed illogical. I vowed never to do so. Then, I got my first job.
Of course, one cannot expect much of a first job, and I landed on something that with my seemingly low writable qualifications was what you’d call “nice.” Except that it wasn’t nice. A good company, workplace, and co-workers cannot make up for the experience of a brain vacuum. I would go around organizing clothes in the boutique, contemplating various ideas, trying to justify the enormous waste of capability I was experiencing. My brain was standing there ready to crunch calculus equations, and I was telling it to shut up, that it’s unnecessary. I tried to look through the shelves to perhaps find patterns or make connections. When customers would come in, I would stand there trying to guess there life stories along with their buying inclinations. And yet, my time for sociology and logic was so dreadfully rare, I thought it a luxury.
Often I looked at a piece of clothing there, and converted the price to hours I have to work. In a sense, if you don’t love what you do, an item is worth a certain number of hours of your life. It’s a frightening price to pay. I hope that now that I see it, I’ll do all that’s in my power to never pay this way again.
It’s hard to breathe when I love you but can’t have you,
But I really start choking
When I realize I don’t love you so much,
Because if I don’t love you,
What do I have?
What do I hold on to?
My emotions torn from me.
I’m left alone in the dark
Of a miserable alley in a meaningless world,
Forced to be consoled by the idea
Of a knife in my back pocket for defense.
And I know,
This passion is all distance and a busy head.
When we meet we are in discord,
We are in love, but we are not in sync.
Our paths are perpendicular lines,
Never to meet again.
And yet, I can’t help but be heartbroken,
Over a love my heart will never hold.
Wishing you all a happy new year! 🙂
“HAPPINESS, except that it is always subjective, is primarily indeterminate random event. From a mathematical point of view, is a stochastic process, expressed as a function of random variables, defining the events which affect the being of human. Therefore, even the best-conceived code of conduct is not able to ensure the man, that complying with established rules will make him happy.” -Jean-Marc Kania