Dreaming

Even if I never will accomplish it, I have to keep imagining and dreaming my future. Because that is the reasons I keep going. Because there’s all these things I want to see and do, and I’ll do anything in right conscience that it takes to get there and do it, live it.

And along the way, I hope I never forget where I’ve been, who I’ve been, and what I’ve come from.

Life is just such a beautiful journey--or at least, I like to imagine so.

Origins

I never get bored anymore. There’s just so much to think about. The past, present, and future. I spend most of my time imagining. When I’m in a room anywhere, something I always can do is imagine origins. It is an endless chain of thought. Sitting in a classroom, I can look at the desk and wonder how many kids have sat in that seat in the past. Sometimes I wonder what the class was like when the desk first arrived. Who was the first to sit in it? How did the desk get there? What was it before it was a desk? Where did the tree it’s made from come from?

Sometimes we’re stuck in traffic and I just stare at construction. I stare at the workers and wonder what kind of people they are. If they’re bad people, I don’t want to know. So I pretend that they’re good people. I wonder if they’re honest people who work hard because they can’t get any other work. If they have a family at home that depends on their work in the hot sun for hours. What was there life like growing up to end up here and now?

Everyone and everything has an origin, and it’s impossible to ever finish dreaming up what those could be. Of course, my concoctions are most assuredly completely inaccurate, but these are things I will probably never know the answer to, and it could be pretty much anything, likely nothing I would ever imagine. That’s one of the reasons I can’t hate people. I just look at them thinking how little I know about them and how everything I see is an illusion. I’m not very good at criticizing things and people. I never think the other person is weird, I just think that I’m just so naive of the world and don’t know much.

There is something entirely self-destructive about being human. Something so feeble and ridiculous, yet unavoidably incomprehensible.

The most rational people should be aware of the fact that humans are simply irrational.

The Sky

If I hadn't been told what the sky was, I would not think it limitless. I’d think that it was a dome ceiling. And that stars were magical birds too far away for me to see anything but their magical sparkle.
You know, if you stare at the sky too long, it becomes harder and harder to believe that something lies beyond it. That there is an eternal darkness, a void filled only by drifting rocks and the light of stars an unimaginable distance away. That our world is illuminated by a flaming ball too immense to comprehend. And that the sky is not something that can ever be touched, yet it stretches all around the world. And wherever you travel, when you look up, there it will always be.

I think the best first world gift there is to have is someone who listens. It is so horrible to want so much to be heard, but for no ears to open to you. If there is someone who turns and listens when you speak, not because you ask them to, but because they want to, then you are goddamn blessed. Just to have someone who wants to understand, even if they never do. Isn’t that wonderful? You never really know how valuable that is until you have been without it.

The world is full of shit. Realizing that is the easy part. Knowing that it sucks, but loving it anyway—that’s the hard part.

Home

I just thought it’d be nice to say…
I’m glad I live in a home. Sure, it’s no place of solace many a time, but I do have my room. Which is filled with stuffed animals and sometimes I can just lay down amongst them and look at all their cute little faces and pat their little heads and hug their little squishy selves and remember how long they’ve been with me.
I’m glad I don’t live in an apartment. I’ve never moved. I may not have always liked the people in it, but nevertheless, this is home.
It won’t be forever. Time moves forward, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll make a new home of my own one day. I may start off bouncing through apartments, again only if I’m lucky, but one day I will leave this place.
And even with all the hate that went on down here, this will always be where I spent my childhood. Where I grew up. Where I learned and lived. And it will always be my first home.

The Little Things

Some of us, along the course of our lives, have come to learn how to appreciate the little things in life. Those tiny little joys from everyday blessings, which most people have, but often go without noticing. Now, why do we love the little things? Well, there comes a point when you realize that that—those little things in life—are really all you have. Some of us are bold, some of us are passionate, and some of us are at least a little bit talented.

But the rest of us, well, the rest of us are left with the little things. Why? Because we are never the people who reach out and take things. We are not smart enough, brave enough, charismatic enough, or significant enough. We live small and small is what we are. The big things in life will never come along. We watch movies and read books about adventure and life changing moments and things amazing, of everyday people who become more than ordinary. We pretend that one day that person will be ourselves. Waiting for that big thing.

But the truth is, that may never come along. Worst of all, you live life safe and peacefully, which those out there would give anything for. So in the end, all you are is undeservingly lucky. Useless and lucky. And even worse than that (yes, there is worse) is that it is completely in your power to change that. You can. All you have to do is go out there and do it. You can’t blame life, you can’t blame the world, you can’t blame circumstance. It’s all on you.

And yet you continue to live small. And you teach yourself to love the little things. Because you don’t know if you will ever live any bigger. So perhaps that will be all there ever is.

Gratitude

We look here in America, and we can see corruption and injustice and endlessly ridiculous systems and unsettled fights and people with too many rights and just so many things wrong. And it’s terrible and disgusting at times.
Then, looking at other governments around the world like communism and dictatorships and America looks pretty damn good. Where else can you rise up and follow your dreams?
Like life, there are wondrous things and terrible things. And there are a lot of people who tell you not to complain because we have it so good. But just because we have it good, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to make it better, right? We know we’ll never reach perfection where all is good, but that just means we’ll never run out of things to do.

I often watch cartoons and look at them wishing that that was the world we lived in. Where no one is truly evil, and justice always prevails...

Burdens

To rid yourself of the grudges that lie deepest in your heart is no easy task. But it is possible.

One can never shed enough tears for all the pain and sorrow in this world.

Responsibility

My actions are my responsibilities and my punishments to bear. I will not blame society and I will not run. I will not beg and I will not back down. No one said it wasn’t going to hurt.

Only Pictures

There's just so much--so much we haven't done. Yet we're stuck here, doing the same things, all the time. Sometimes that's enough. But sometimes, we just sit here, looking at pictures. Pictures of everything. Pictures of the world, of life, life going by, outside our own.
Sometimes, I wish for a piece. But society demands otherwise, teaches otherwise. So I am afraid. So perhaps, forever, life will always be just in pictures. Forever only pictures.