my person is an insignificant one. there is no single purpose to flesh out the various impersonations i have done to appease the lot. the idea that i am however speaks more than i can ever hope to do with mere words, because i want better for our lives. i will do what it takes because i have an idea, i am an idea that things should not merely be this. we can be great without sacrificing our soul, or our sanity, or our ideas, we can be greatness of the generation with our perseverance for the right things.
the person i am is no longer of value, but the idea i hold is to me the most precious thing. i cannot escape feeling hopeless in virtual perpetuity because of the people who are, but they may create that feeling, it is up to you to determine otherwise. in a place of virtually nothing, only you can pull yourself up when all the world does is hurt you or misjudge you or just plainly messes with you, moreover so if its the one you hold dearest.
life is much better with it, because you get to make choices. you get to like people based on who you are, rather than what you want them to be. there are regrets, obviously. but at least we can all coexist without any problems. i wish everyone happiness always, because it is a mutually exclusive thing! -
she is wonderful. thank god she doesn't know i know it. that girl in the dress i like is always in her step, moving like a seasoned pro in a sea of thorns, stepping past vines unscathed by leering ones. the first feeling she gave me was hope, that everything could be what it could be, that people can be kind. that day we ran under rain towards the marketplace, i liked every moment. she told me superficial things, and she told me deep things, and she shared her worries, and she was the one. hope, it is such a scarce thing, when everything seems to be falling apart, when people seem unkind and selfish. some people just can't help themselves can they? too kind in nature, that person was who she was, and i loved every moment of our moment.
feeling number two was fear and then relief, when she was frowning in that coffee place, and i was late. she glared at me and then smiled, and said we should have a drink. i know she might have done that for others too, but it mattered to me, that it was...
One has to be careful, when choosing choice words to describe one's propensities. I believe that a man has many propensities, for this and that, for good and bad, but how do we even begin to define a person based on her propensities? If you reread the above statement, you find the propensity of me to think things through before writing. Perhaps you find a propensity for me to be too dramatic. Perhaps you find a propensity of me to be too careful. All those opinions are valid only to the extent that they are speculative share guesses. How do we quantify these noises into a definition of a person? I believe we can, and I believe that's a challenge well overdue its awesomeness.
A person's choice is a part of her, and a person's thoughts are another part. We define people from the choices they make, which is the only logical way to quantify their person, because it's operation is based on facts. However, we require to at least show we care enough to consider their thoughts, and that is th...
In this life, Deck knew all about the ins and outs.
There were always going to be gutter periods, he told Stan, for those are the most crucial of periods. What do you mean Deck old pal? No one, and I mean not even Sloppy Joe could be convinced that life has to trod into such lows. Indeed, it is unthinkable that a few simple falls would cumulate like a snow ball rolling down a steep slope. Downing the last bottle of kilkenny, Stan passed out on the worn leather sofa in the pub. Deck looked into his glass of bright red cocktail, thinking absently, it was not yet those legendary troughs and pangs. It should work out.
Sometimes though, even avalanches are short work and easy prods.
It was raining badly outside. Umbrellas were all snatched by unsavoury types and perhaps Stan would be best left on the chair in the care of Bill, the bartender so old and endured he should have been the owner, either by killing the man or buying him out years ago. He's a stinker, Deck opined, pointing at the pas...
I cant wait for a free bird to maybe fly back, Not going to pretend that its okay, To see you soaring in my silence, Nor is clipping your wings my wish; You are happy in many things, I trust in you to make it good Take care with a heavy heart.