It's official, I've reverted back to the incredibly stupid habit I gave up over three years ago. Every time I embarrass myself (not matter how small of an embarrassment) I pinch or slap myself and call myself mean names. I swear, I am my own bully. I know how bad it is and I hate myself every single time I do it.
My situation keeps getting worse and worse. My head feels like it will explode any second now and I want everything to stop. I'm not just feeling that way anymore, I NEED more space. I can't go back to school. I can't do any of this any more. I'm just done. D-O-N-E, done! I think I've hit my breaking point, because all of this chaos has driven me insane.
I'm done talking with people to figure it out, I'm done feeling like crap. I don't want to hear any noise, I don't want to speak with anyone and I need to be alone. Make it stop! Please just make it all normal again! I can't take it.
It's so easy for me to jump from one emotion to another, without any warning...even to myself. I'll feel perfectly fine one second, like I'm finally on a stable level, then one little thing will send me back into craziness. Last night, I felt fine. I had a nice chat with my aunt and grandma, and felt 100%. I was happy. Then all of a sudden, I'm finished with all this crap and I want it to stop. I don't know what suddenly made me feel this way or when it started happening. Did I wake up this way? Did something happen at school? I don't know!
Just make it go away. I just want to be done with this.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Finding Help
I call the Kids Help Phone yesterday in the middle of the night because I still couldn't sleep and I actually found it to be pretty helpful. It was a little weird at first since it was my first time trying anything like it, but the guy on the other end gave me some helpful suggestions on how to deal with my trouble-some teacher. I'm almost tempted to give all my teachers the link to this blog so they can try to understand everything a little better, but I'm afraid about what they might think and if they'll take offence to things I've written. Partially because I can be a drama queen at times and I often blog when I'm emotionally unstable or want to rant about something that's bothering me.
I do want to be understood. I so badly want to tell everyone what I'm think and how I'm feeling, but I'm so afraid of what will happen if I do. Will they judge and reject me? I don't know. I wish I could give out this blog address to every extended family member so they can know what I'm thinking. I want to be understood, almost everything I choose to do is about getting people to understand me. I write this blog for that very purpose; my novels showcase different sides and opinions I have and my own journal was written for 'future' people who want to learn more about people of this generation. What is it about me that makes me so hard to understand?
My mind is both my comfort and my curse. I am comforted by its dreams, yet driven insane by its reasoning and the chance for insanity. It worries me that I may one day grow insane. Insanity itself doesn't scare me as much as the possibility of loosing my ability to think, reason and create; that would devastate me. Same with becoming a danger to myself and others by forcing a strict, one-sided idea onto them. I prefer fluidity and the ability to change to fit the needs of people, to the strict, ridged moulds that regulate everyone.
I want less in life. I'd like a smaller house, no TV and no school. The main thing I'd like in life (for now), excluding all non-physical things, is a smaller one-floor, open concept house. That's about it.
I do want to be understood. I so badly want to tell everyone what I'm think and how I'm feeling, but I'm so afraid of what will happen if I do. Will they judge and reject me? I don't know. I wish I could give out this blog address to every extended family member so they can know what I'm thinking. I want to be understood, almost everything I choose to do is about getting people to understand me. I write this blog for that very purpose; my novels showcase different sides and opinions I have and my own journal was written for 'future' people who want to learn more about people of this generation. What is it about me that makes me so hard to understand?
My mind is both my comfort and my curse. I am comforted by its dreams, yet driven insane by its reasoning and the chance for insanity. It worries me that I may one day grow insane. Insanity itself doesn't scare me as much as the possibility of loosing my ability to think, reason and create; that would devastate me. Same with becoming a danger to myself and others by forcing a strict, one-sided idea onto them. I prefer fluidity and the ability to change to fit the needs of people, to the strict, ridged moulds that regulate everyone.
I want less in life. I'd like a smaller house, no TV and no school. The main thing I'd like in life (for now), excluding all non-physical things, is a smaller one-floor, open concept house. That's about it.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Continuation...
I feel as if I should both vent and clarify some things for my sanity. I wrote about my understanding of my childhood and how I can't see the girl I was as myself. I do feel as if they were friends that I was unable to save. I'm sure a lot of people can't really understand the connection to their past self, and feel the same way.
For me, I don't see the transition from girl to girl as an evolution of myself. I see it as a failure of one and the success of another. All civilizations have to end, eventually they are unable to keep up with the demands of a society and a new power must take over. This doesn't necessarily mean that the new power is better than the old one, it only solves a problem the old one couldn't.
My mind continues to feel separated from everything else. It's as if it's the only thing that is myself. I feel almost like the main character in "The Host" by Stephanie Meyer; my body is not my own, but my mind is me. It's a really hard concept for me to explain, but I feel as if I'm only borrowing this body. As if it's only a vehicle that I use to get around. My thoughts lead me to ideas of reincarnation. Traditionally, I've never believed in it, but it feels like my mind has been around many more places than my body.
Which leads me to another thought-jump about different religions. I once watched a documentary about Ancient Egypt and a member of an excavating team said something that I've always found interesting. He believed that all religion steams from the same tree, none are "wrong". Couldn't God appear to different people in different ways? It feels wrong, almost as if I'm betraying my own religion, to believe that. Yet, it makes sense to me. All religions have similar pieces between them like a story of a great flood, an evil serpent and so forth. So, is it so unreasonable to believe that God, using his divine wisdom, decided to appear to people of certain regions in ways that would be understood by them. Just a thought.
I've been way less trusting of people and their opinions lately. I've just noticed it today, but I think it's been going on for awhile. I used to agree with most of my dad's ideas, but right now I feel as if we're not quite on the same wavelength. The things he says, although very reasonable and possibly true, don't feel as if they connect to my particular situation. I understand the reasoning behind them and where he gets the ideas from, but I can't accept anything he says right now. I can't really accept anyone's opinions.
One thing I've always had issues with when my dad and I talk is how he always seems to try and analyze me. Sometimes it can be very useful, but other times it can make me feel as if I'm not conveying my thoughts clearly enough or he just selectively chooses what will fit his ideas. He's always been a great person to talk to and usually understands exactly what I'm going through. Maybe he does now, but my mind won't accept it just yet.
I want to return back to my thought of isolating myself. I'm not sure if I posted it on this blog, but before summer I had the idea that I want to stay in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I didn't want to have any distractions (no TV, internet), I just wanted to be there by myself with a few recipes, some books to read and a notebook or laptop to record my thoughts. For a weekend or maybe a week, I'd spend my time in silence in a different location away from the clutter of the house (not physical clutter, but the emotional clutter and distractions all around me) with some room to think. I'd really like that now. I just want silence and space with no restrictions on what I can or can't do around someone else's schedule. I don't want those annoying interruptions of having to drive someone somewhere or pick up something from the store. No yells of "clean up this!" or that annoying vacuum cleaner that makes me want to scream out in frustration (I swear, it's like the focus of all my annoyances. Every time I hear it, I have the urge to smash it with a sledgehammer).
One thing I thought was interesting during that conversation with my dad was the idea of volunteering. I think I'd like to do something like that where maybe I could mentor someone or talk with some people one-on-one. I've always wanted to feel a connection with someone younger than me and I'm constantly looking for similarities between myself and my sister or cousins. I want to be able to have someone confide in me freely and understand that I'm here to help them and won't judge. I want to help someone with their emotional issues and just sit there and listen. I've wanted to do something like that for a long while, but I'm just not sure how to go about doing it.
Ok, I think that's all for right now. Hopefully my mind has stabilized enough to give me a few hours of decent sleep.
For me, I don't see the transition from girl to girl as an evolution of myself. I see it as a failure of one and the success of another. All civilizations have to end, eventually they are unable to keep up with the demands of a society and a new power must take over. This doesn't necessarily mean that the new power is better than the old one, it only solves a problem the old one couldn't.
My mind continues to feel separated from everything else. It's as if it's the only thing that is myself. I feel almost like the main character in "The Host" by Stephanie Meyer; my body is not my own, but my mind is me. It's a really hard concept for me to explain, but I feel as if I'm only borrowing this body. As if it's only a vehicle that I use to get around. My thoughts lead me to ideas of reincarnation. Traditionally, I've never believed in it, but it feels like my mind has been around many more places than my body.
Which leads me to another thought-jump about different religions. I once watched a documentary about Ancient Egypt and a member of an excavating team said something that I've always found interesting. He believed that all religion steams from the same tree, none are "wrong". Couldn't God appear to different people in different ways? It feels wrong, almost as if I'm betraying my own religion, to believe that. Yet, it makes sense to me. All religions have similar pieces between them like a story of a great flood, an evil serpent and so forth. So, is it so unreasonable to believe that God, using his divine wisdom, decided to appear to people of certain regions in ways that would be understood by them. Just a thought.
I've been way less trusting of people and their opinions lately. I've just noticed it today, but I think it's been going on for awhile. I used to agree with most of my dad's ideas, but right now I feel as if we're not quite on the same wavelength. The things he says, although very reasonable and possibly true, don't feel as if they connect to my particular situation. I understand the reasoning behind them and where he gets the ideas from, but I can't accept anything he says right now. I can't really accept anyone's opinions.
One thing I've always had issues with when my dad and I talk is how he always seems to try and analyze me. Sometimes it can be very useful, but other times it can make me feel as if I'm not conveying my thoughts clearly enough or he just selectively chooses what will fit his ideas. He's always been a great person to talk to and usually understands exactly what I'm going through. Maybe he does now, but my mind won't accept it just yet.
I want to return back to my thought of isolating myself. I'm not sure if I posted it on this blog, but before summer I had the idea that I want to stay in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I didn't want to have any distractions (no TV, internet), I just wanted to be there by myself with a few recipes, some books to read and a notebook or laptop to record my thoughts. For a weekend or maybe a week, I'd spend my time in silence in a different location away from the clutter of the house (not physical clutter, but the emotional clutter and distractions all around me) with some room to think. I'd really like that now. I just want silence and space with no restrictions on what I can or can't do around someone else's schedule. I don't want those annoying interruptions of having to drive someone somewhere or pick up something from the store. No yells of "clean up this!" or that annoying vacuum cleaner that makes me want to scream out in frustration (I swear, it's like the focus of all my annoyances. Every time I hear it, I have the urge to smash it with a sledgehammer).
One thing I thought was interesting during that conversation with my dad was the idea of volunteering. I think I'd like to do something like that where maybe I could mentor someone or talk with some people one-on-one. I've always wanted to feel a connection with someone younger than me and I'm constantly looking for similarities between myself and my sister or cousins. I want to be able to have someone confide in me freely and understand that I'm here to help them and won't judge. I want to help someone with their emotional issues and just sit there and listen. I've wanted to do something like that for a long while, but I'm just not sure how to go about doing it.
Ok, I think that's all for right now. Hopefully my mind has stabilized enough to give me a few hours of decent sleep.
Illusion vs. Reality
I was listening to my ipod today and came across the song "The Lonely" by Christina Perri. It got me reflecting on my life and I came across the somewhat obvious discovery that I don't view the girl in my childhood to be me. The girl in all the photos who I'm told is me, I don't see her as mine. Heck, my parents could have showed me a picture of my grandmother as a child and told me that she was me and I would have believed it.
I've had many identities over the course of my short years. I don't know where the definite line is drawn between them all, but they are as similar as a dark and light. To me, they're just friends...friends that I was unable to save. I don't know why I think of them as such (don't judge) but that's how I view it. I look back at them, and see their fears and troubles, realizing that there could have been so much done to save them. Those days that they cried internally, unable to let anyone know what was wrong, and I feel as if I should have wrapped my arms around them and told them everything was going to be ok. I didn't, though. I just stood by and watched as they collapsed and a new one took their place.
Just as I cannot see myself as one of those girls, I can't even look at myself in the mirror and see me as this person nor can I attach my name to myself. I swear, I feel faceless and nameless. This is where it gets into that whole grey area. I used to read some people's quotes about where illusion ends and reality begins and I thought they were nut jobs. I believe that the physical world I live in is reality, but my internal thoughts and emotions are up for discussion. How do I know that my thoughts are mine? How do I know that what I'm feeling is what I feel? Am I who I've been told I am, or am I mislead? The things I value are they important? The words I write, whether it be on this blog or in my novels, are they mine? Do I live in a fantasy that is as easily manipulated as one of my stories?
My mind feels separate from everything thing else. From the words typed on this page, the fingers that tapped on the keyboard and the eyes that witnessed it all. Nothing feels concrete, nothing feels like I can truly believe in it. I've never trusted the words of someone to the full 100%, especially when it comes to their view of me, but now everything they say feels like a lie as if they wish to mould me into what they want.
I want so badly to isolate myself. I don't ever want to go back to school, I want to spend every moment thinking and writing. Yet, it is obvious by what I've just written that insanity could easily result from being separated from the rest of the world. For crying out loud, I sound like I'm already on the verge of become a conspiracy theorist. Separating myself from everyone would mean less reality checks. I want silence, I want to be able to do as I want without the need to please someone.
Now for a break from reflection and on to ranting: You know where that last thought comes from? This afternoon I told my mom I was going on a drive to try and clear my mind. I drove around for about half-an-hour before I get a phone call: "Do you have any money on you?", "Nope.", "You want to come here and get my card?", "why?", "I need Tide to do laundry.", "Don't you have the other car there?", "Yeah, but I'm still in my pajamas and don't want to go out."
Lovely conversation. So I drove for 15 minutes to get back home because she was too lazy to change into clothes and get her own laundry detergent. When I say I need to go out to clear my head, that means I don't want to be bothered. That means that I don't want to worry about anything, I just want to think. I don't want to obey any rules, save for the traffic laws. I want a break from my life so I can calm down and think. Being asked to do menial chores that could easily be done by the person who needs it, ticks me off on even on the best of days. When I'm stressed, give me some room and get your own frickin' Tide! Please and Thank-you.
I've had many identities over the course of my short years. I don't know where the definite line is drawn between them all, but they are as similar as a dark and light. To me, they're just friends...friends that I was unable to save. I don't know why I think of them as such (don't judge) but that's how I view it. I look back at them, and see their fears and troubles, realizing that there could have been so much done to save them. Those days that they cried internally, unable to let anyone know what was wrong, and I feel as if I should have wrapped my arms around them and told them everything was going to be ok. I didn't, though. I just stood by and watched as they collapsed and a new one took their place.
Just as I cannot see myself as one of those girls, I can't even look at myself in the mirror and see me as this person nor can I attach my name to myself. I swear, I feel faceless and nameless. This is where it gets into that whole grey area. I used to read some people's quotes about where illusion ends and reality begins and I thought they were nut jobs. I believe that the physical world I live in is reality, but my internal thoughts and emotions are up for discussion. How do I know that my thoughts are mine? How do I know that what I'm feeling is what I feel? Am I who I've been told I am, or am I mislead? The things I value are they important? The words I write, whether it be on this blog or in my novels, are they mine? Do I live in a fantasy that is as easily manipulated as one of my stories?
My mind feels separate from everything thing else. From the words typed on this page, the fingers that tapped on the keyboard and the eyes that witnessed it all. Nothing feels concrete, nothing feels like I can truly believe in it. I've never trusted the words of someone to the full 100%, especially when it comes to their view of me, but now everything they say feels like a lie as if they wish to mould me into what they want.
I want so badly to isolate myself. I don't ever want to go back to school, I want to spend every moment thinking and writing. Yet, it is obvious by what I've just written that insanity could easily result from being separated from the rest of the world. For crying out loud, I sound like I'm already on the verge of become a conspiracy theorist. Separating myself from everyone would mean less reality checks. I want silence, I want to be able to do as I want without the need to please someone.
Now for a break from reflection and on to ranting: You know where that last thought comes from? This afternoon I told my mom I was going on a drive to try and clear my mind. I drove around for about half-an-hour before I get a phone call: "Do you have any money on you?", "Nope.", "You want to come here and get my card?", "why?", "I need Tide to do laundry.", "Don't you have the other car there?", "Yeah, but I'm still in my pajamas and don't want to go out."
Lovely conversation. So I drove for 15 minutes to get back home because she was too lazy to change into clothes and get her own laundry detergent. When I say I need to go out to clear my head, that means I don't want to be bothered. That means that I don't want to worry about anything, I just want to think. I don't want to obey any rules, save for the traffic laws. I want a break from my life so I can calm down and think. Being asked to do menial chores that could easily be done by the person who needs it, ticks me off on even on the best of days. When I'm stressed, give me some room and get your own frickin' Tide! Please and Thank-you.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Yay, More Inner Chaos!
A week ago, I wrote this in my notebook while at school:
"I'm currently at a very delicate emotional level, one on which I rest on the edge of extreme sadness and depression. Little things have the potential to make me plummet into a turbulent sea where all my energy is devoted merely to fight against the waves of emotions that crash down over my head and threaten to take me under. I feel very unstable and at times I think of pushing everyone outside of my immediate circle away because of the fear of judgement and dragging them down with me. In some regards, I'd rather not deal with people than risk being rejected by them. To reject is often easier than being rejected."
What can I say about this? Dramatic, yes. Chessy, heck yes! That little bit about plummeting was me using all of the cheesy analogies and filing it under 'creative license'. Ok, so I do realize that it was written during a not so great period and a lot of teenage dramatics were thrown in. However, it leads me to say: I WAS RIGHT!
Grrr...I hate being right. I have officially jumped head-first off of that edge with the goal of drowning myself. If you've noticed, I haven't written for a bit because I was at an almost stable point. Stability decided to go on vacation this weekend and left me to fend for myself. I have re-entered a chaotic mindframe, and I'm back to jumping back and forth between topics that leave me more confused than ever.
My sister has been a great annoyance to me of late. She's been going on and on about moving back to Manitoba. It bothers me that she places the small town we used to live in on a pedestal and views it as a utopia when I think there are so many issues there. I find it to be more of a disillusioned society that shelters itself from the rest of the world. I do not regret ever living there because it did allow me to build a strong moral foundation, however, ti is drastically different from the outside world and that makes moving away a culture-shock for people. There, the town becomes a vortex that sucks everyone back in; people leave, are afraid and come back.
As a shy, closed individual I understand that desperate need for a safety bubble, but to forfeit you dreams and your potential for comfort reduces you to nothing. Gosh, I feel like such a hypocrite now. I love my safety bubble, but I do feel like it doesn't hold me back...much. All the things that I want, I can do so on my own. I realize that this sounds like the exact same thing anyone in that small down would say to defend their own choice to live there. This is the hard thing with life, how can we ever know what is reality or illusion?
I do understand the benefits of living in a closed community, but I also know of the benefits of living somewhere with a lot of varied people with different ideas. Another thing I both hate and love about my mind: my need to understand both sides of an argument and my inability to choose one. It would be so much easier to have a one-sided view, but having that would prove dangerous and debilitating to society. Stupid "nothing good comes easy" rule!
Ok, so now I have vent again. Do I feel any better? No. All my usual coping techniques are failing once again. Heck, I can barely sleep at night because I'm busy debating everything from politics to people's mindsets. It wouldn't be as much of a problem if I was only debating one at a time, but I like to jump from topic to topic.
Anyway, thanks to the digital world for letting me create my blog of depression. :P
-Asiemens
Monday, November 14, 2011
Down in the Dumps...Again
Today, I'm not doing so well. Once again, I've gotten worse health-wise. At least I've been getting my appetite back, although I'm very picky about what I feel I can it. No soups that aren't stock based, no take-out, no pizza, no fried anything, etc.
Emotionally, I've taken another descent into the realm of chaos. I'm not sure what test is used to diagnosis depression, but I'm pretty sure I'm getting close. I don't want to go outside and I've actually debating dropping out of school. A bit of an over-reaction, but I have no desire to go to school at all. I'm not going to drop out, because I know that a good education is needed, but I've really been re-evaluating what I want to do in the future.
I'm scared. I'm scared that my choices right now are the result of emotions and that I'll wind up regretting them in the near future. I'm scared that I might have lost too much weight. I'm scared that my life will wind up being worthless. For my English class, I've been reading "The Stone Angel" and it deals with an elderly woman named Hagar who reflects back at her life. I don't like it, most likely because it deals with my own fears of regretting my life and to be someone who once had such hope, but becomes nothingness. I've actually stopped reading the book a few chapters from the end because it's made me feel more terrible than I already do.
I want to cry right now and laugh, because I feel like such a crazy person. Forget about waiting till I'm 50 to be the crazy dog lady, my white fluffy pup and I already have that covered. He's almost as psycho as I am. ;) I want to talk to someone who won't lecture me. I just want someone to listen and not interrupt me. As the crazy person I am, I feel like everyone I talk to about this is judging me. Like I'm stupid and an emotional idiot. I don't know how to deal with this, I don't know what to do to make it better and I desperately need some help. That last statement does contradict my "do not interrupt or lecture me" thought, which may indicate my stupidity.
I'm on skype right now, waiting for my friend to call me. I've been waiting to talk to her for almost two weeks and I feel as if I'm going to explode unless I speak with her. It's not her fault that we haven't been able to talk. She's always been busier than I and she's too sweet to ignore me on purpose. A little blond maybe, but that's why I love her. :) I'm sad that I wasn't there when she got baptized this last weekend. I'm sad that I won't ever get to live near her again; that we'll never get to hang out at each other's houses on the weekend and go to the same school. We both have very different life-paths and sometimes I worry that we'll just lose each other as we move forward.
I've got to stop before I burst into tears. I'm sorry for all the downers lately and I hope that I'll be able to break out of it soon.
To give myself a little bit of hope:
I failed my way to success.
-Thomas Edison
Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.
-William Ellery Channing
Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win.
-Bernadette Devlin
Emotionally, I've taken another descent into the realm of chaos. I'm not sure what test is used to diagnosis depression, but I'm pretty sure I'm getting close. I don't want to go outside and I've actually debating dropping out of school. A bit of an over-reaction, but I have no desire to go to school at all. I'm not going to drop out, because I know that a good education is needed, but I've really been re-evaluating what I want to do in the future.
I'm scared. I'm scared that my choices right now are the result of emotions and that I'll wind up regretting them in the near future. I'm scared that I might have lost too much weight. I'm scared that my life will wind up being worthless. For my English class, I've been reading "The Stone Angel" and it deals with an elderly woman named Hagar who reflects back at her life. I don't like it, most likely because it deals with my own fears of regretting my life and to be someone who once had such hope, but becomes nothingness. I've actually stopped reading the book a few chapters from the end because it's made me feel more terrible than I already do.
I want to cry right now and laugh, because I feel like such a crazy person. Forget about waiting till I'm 50 to be the crazy dog lady, my white fluffy pup and I already have that covered. He's almost as psycho as I am. ;) I want to talk to someone who won't lecture me. I just want someone to listen and not interrupt me. As the crazy person I am, I feel like everyone I talk to about this is judging me. Like I'm stupid and an emotional idiot. I don't know how to deal with this, I don't know what to do to make it better and I desperately need some help. That last statement does contradict my "do not interrupt or lecture me" thought, which may indicate my stupidity.
I'm on skype right now, waiting for my friend to call me. I've been waiting to talk to her for almost two weeks and I feel as if I'm going to explode unless I speak with her. It's not her fault that we haven't been able to talk. She's always been busier than I and she's too sweet to ignore me on purpose. A little blond maybe, but that's why I love her. :) I'm sad that I wasn't there when she got baptized this last weekend. I'm sad that I won't ever get to live near her again; that we'll never get to hang out at each other's houses on the weekend and go to the same school. We both have very different life-paths and sometimes I worry that we'll just lose each other as we move forward.
I've got to stop before I burst into tears. I'm sorry for all the downers lately and I hope that I'll be able to break out of it soon.
To give myself a little bit of hope:
I failed my way to success.
-Thomas Edison
Difficulties are meant to rouse, not discourage. The human spirit is to grow strong by conflict.
-William Ellery Channing
Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win.
-Bernadette Devlin
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thoughts
So, for the past week I've been writing down a lot of my thoughts in order to ease the chaos that currently has set up residence in my head and refused to move out even with all the eviction notices I've sent it. Anyway, I figured I might as well share a few for the sake of doing so. I do realize that I may or have in the past made the same mistakes that I rant on and so forth. As far as you're considered, these were written during a period of emotional struggle and I'm lucky that they make any sense at all. Plus a few were written in Social Studies which explains the tone and the random insertion of politics. Enjoy!
Give me a moment alone with my thoughts and I shall reimburse you with many more. What you think and how you use them was never my concern.
Judge me by my exterior and be deprived of the true, reflective person underneath.
Remember the moments of sorrow lest you return to them. Recall the moments of happiness lest you forget them.
Listen to the words that remain unspoken because silence creates more than mindless chatter.
Let the words flow from the soul and spread their wings without restrictions or care of what others will think.
In English we are taught to write analytical and unbiased essays; in reality, no one can fully remove themselves from any piece of writing. We cover up this fact by using big, irrelevant words that successfully confuse even the most attentive individual and drown the reflective ones in a bottomless sea of bullshit. Although, in some cases, we must attempt to remain neutral, we should always aim for the words with the most meaning rather than use the empty words to give oneself an air of pompous condescension and imaginary self-worth.
There will always be conflict; we can never expect to have a harmonious world. It’s depressing to think so, but I find that all people cannot work together. Different ideas, influenced by childhood experience and the company one keeps, will always be in conflict with one another. Eventually, just like Darwin’s “survival of the fittest” theory, an idea will be overcome by another; someone must always win. The losing idea may still remain in bits and pieces, but will be over-powered by the winner and its influence. This does not mean that the losing idea cannot be revived and, if the idea holds merit, over time it will be. However, the process of revival is slow. If the quick revival and acceptance of an idea were to occur, it will always be caused by forced and aggressive conflict.
Always question your thoughts and ask where they came from. Be aware of what influences you and learn about the opposing views. Refrain from discrediting them immediately, think about them and realize why they came about. Rather sit on the fence than fall into the gnashing teeth of the rabid dogs on either side. Being a moderate does not mean the lack of decision, but the educated ideas of one who understands both sides better than they do themselves. Those looking for a quick and easy answer, and those who offer it, are fools asking to be bitten and turned into a rabid, brain-dead beast themselves. Their lives will be short-lived, but full of the spreading of the disease and unimportance. No matter how long it took to build a spot on the fence, these dogs can tear it down in minutes. Why do we bother than? Because it is better to try and fail in order to better society than to succeed through lies and decaying humanitarianism. A year of peace and humanitarian living is more beneficial than a decade of stable dictatorship.
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