Here I am for the nth time writing about the topic I oftentimes love and sometimes dreaded, myself. This ambivalence came from the necessity of explanation of ones self for societies impossible clarity.
First and for the most society annoys me. That hatred proves to be beneficial since I’ve been incessantly trying hard to change it. I planted a mangrove and it branched into anti- coal, renewable energy and cleanliness campaigns. Questions have vagued my judgement, some of them open ended, unfortunately most of them are unanswerable. There are a lot of things I just dont agree with.
If you see me buying a self help book that is a gift for someone. Aside from the love of sharing the beauty of reading, I hate self help books. They are literature’s biggest fiction. But one day I would like to write one. Life is ironic, mine especially.
Just like most people music is one of things that my world wants to revolve around to. I am not a musician. In music, there are two kinds of people; the one appreciates, the other creates. I am neither. They’re all inside a circle and I am outside writing about them.
My real friends are the shadows on my barren walls. They throw me words when I need them. Just like right now. The people I talk with, they’re my resources. The people I hold hands with when I cross the street I call them my family. The people who brought me to the Earth are my home. The rest are just nuisance intricately arranged like a maze, and I knew them as my enemies.
Love exists everywhere. It is the higher source, if not the highest. My first love was drawing but I have fallen truely in love a number of times. You could consider it a phenomenon like the thunder, some brief, others last, but they all are definitely real. Currently, I’m on the lookout for lightnings.
When people asked me what I do, I used to answer with my wide grin “I’m a bum”. Now everytime I get the question, I confidently answer “I write”. There isnt much difference actually. Writing is like bumming around in your imagination but you get paid doing it.
I have eyes that hides themselves in my laughters, teeth that are outgoing, cheeks like the chocolate hills, freckles like a constellation and a pretty friendly face that creates a barely noticeable presence. My physical appearance is my stealth, when I speak I begin to dissolve into people’s attention. But mostly I choose to be a flower on the wall.
Above all of this there is only one sentence you need to read to know me. I want to create order from chaos, pleasure from pain and love from hatred.
There it is, now let me go back to what I’m reading.