Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

No need for introductions. I've done this before. Another poem to illustrate the lack of peace in my mind. Another threnody to paint the picture of monstrous melancholy inside me. Another soliloquy to replicate the wretched riots within my head.

Break the Surface

Please relieve this sick feeling
Stabbing me in the back
From floor to ceiling
Clawing at all I lack

It’s like climbing the floor
When you’re running through the water
Stopping at open doors
When there’s nothing left to alter
It’s like a teasing bullet
Taunting your every move
My battered life is a rogue rocket
And there’s too much left to sooth.

It's like running north
When the oasis lies south
It's like biting the air back and forth
When you're bleeding from your mouth
It's like this pristine silence
Deafening my every cry
Purpose doesn't define my existence
And it still won't let me die.

So again I fall down
Tearing up at the seams
And hit the dark ground
Of this sensual dream.

--

2 months ago seems like it is ages away. I'm so sorry.

Swan song.

I don't think I've ever been this close to sinking into myself before.
In moments of sadness such as these, I would think about you, and how we were together, and nothing could ever stop us, and how I could write a full book about the golden moments I would spend with you.
Now everytime I turn to you, all I find are blank pages.

Everything else is falling to pieces too.
I can turn to my friends, but they're not strong enough to save this.
For all I care, I could be blind by now. I could be imagining everything I see, and adjusting it to fit my personality.
Even then, the universe is grey.

I keep on stumbling everytime I want to type out this sentence. I've erased it and rewritten more times than I dare count.
But I realise that this feeling is too big to put into words. It's too significant. It's too dense and multilayered. It's too hypnotising and full of too much tear-watering material. For once, I feel like sparing you.
You've been treated to a cocktail of dark emotions throughout this blog, but right now I want you to have a happy day or night after reading this. I don't want you to feel down like I do. I want you to leave the computer and think about how beautiful the world can be if you think of it that way.
Do the job I am incapable of doing: appreciate life.

You taught me how to do that. But the lessons I learned with you fade with your abscence.
It's better that way. I feel I can bring others happiness.
Who cares if the one person who could do that to me is now gone?

You don't need to care anyway. Why should you? It's a waste of your time.
Just fuck off already. And be happy. Be happier than I could ever be.

Listen Up
by Oasis

Listen up, what's the time said today?
I'm gonna speak my mind.
Take me up to the top of the world,
I wanna see my crime.

Day by day, there's a man in a suit,
Who's gonna make you pay,
For the thoughts that you think and the words,
They won't let you say.

One fine day,
I'm gonna leave you all behind.
It wouldn't be so bad,
If I had more time.

But I've been sailing down this river alone,
And I'm still trying to find my way back home.

But I don't believe in magic, life is automatic.
But I don't mind being on my own.

I said that I don't mind being on my own.
No I don't mind being on my own.

Days like these.

It's days like these that make me think of summer. Now it's winter, but the sun still shines on everyone. Even on me, though I find it hard to believe. It's days when I can walk down the neat suburbs with friends and laugh at how we have no idea where we'll end up that coming night. These days remind me of the holidays, when you couldn't base yourself on school to see everyone in your life. You had to construct it all, and only you were the true master of how you would spend those holidays.
I'm at the same stage, and that is why I feel like that on days like these. I have to construct it all over again. I tell everyone I'm over you. I most probably am, but the remnants of our relationship still burn bright in my soul. But the remnants have gone cold. I've been procrastinating and shooting myself in the foot for a while. Meanwhile you're finally truthful to yourself, and I am rendered tame, and I cannot say anything about the way you're living your life.

It's days like these that edge me closer to darkness. It's sunny outside, but hospital walls block out the sun completely. Life seems to be at an agonizing stop inbetween these 4 walls. It's blistering. Survival seems to be the option here. Sad faces are ever-present, and if you catch a glimpse of happiness, it will also be shaded by fakeness and good social manners. I see you in many people here. You seem to be everywhere, except for where you're supposed to be. We haven't spoken for real in ages. I want to stop missing you as soon as possible. But first I must get better. However, I am not sick. I am healthy on the outside, but I feel just as diseased as the real patients.
Why can't I move outside into the sunlight?

It's days like these that shape sadness and force me back into myself. Why did things have to change? For once, I was living life as it was meant to be lived. Without sadness. Without worry. Without this fucking website. And with you.
I guess my conscience tied itself in a knot. I just want to enjoy the sunlit streets I'm walking down with my friends. I'm not walking down the street to happiness, just the street that goes forward. I might be wrong.
Why aren't things the same? Now, sadness surrounds all and absorbs all. Even if I consider happiness, it'll be with something that I don't have anymore. You can guess what that something is.

Days like these would make anyone feel lonely, even though they are surrounded by people who love them. It's a different kind of loneliness. It's the loneliness that reaches inside you to grasp whatever hope of mirth you ever had. It's the kind that points at what you've lost and constantly reminds you of your happy past, and how much better it was then. It's the kind that reminds you a countless number of times that things will not get better for a while. It's the loneliness that you can only feel if you are trapped between 4 walls or enjoying the sunshine when nobody else is. It's the loneliness that reminds you of your innocent childhood joy and energy, and then suddenly obliviates you of it. It's the loneliness that tethers you to the hard sting of reality, and days like these.

Zero.

The aftermath of the warm blood bath is starkly cold.
Now I realise what has really happened. It's a lot worse than I pictured it. I have to start from the beginning once more, and see if I can build something as proud as the vestige I lost. This is a new beginning.
Or is it just a resurrection of the end?
Either way, it's not ok. Nothing is ok.

For a certain someone.

I walked home after seeing friends today. On a wednesday evening. Days when I would usually see you.

I don't feel sad or heartbroken that it's over. My mind seems to flutter uncontrollably between confusion and nostalgia. I don't know if I still love you. I definitely know that you do not love me anymore, and that is what's changed.

Nothing else has changed. I still have my friends, my family, my good grades. I still have my pride, and all those great memories left behind.
It's funny. I don't miss you, but then again I do. So badly. I want to be strong and solid enough to move on without giving signs of weakness. But I am weak when it comes to you.

I was walking home and it was already dark and cold. And, funnily enough, I deliberately took a detour to take a trip down memory lane. And I got this feeling. This feeling from when we were still together and everything was great.
It feels like such a long time ago, and just a second ago at the same time, even though it was only 3 months ago. You seem to be strong, but I don't know if you're just as confused as I am underneath.

I'm not soft for love. If you read the rest of my blog, you'll see that I find love to be annoying, harmful, and eventually pointless. But all these ideas fall apart when I think back to when we were together.
I walked home and listened to Oasis like we would do. We would be glad to have each other's company and we'd feel complete. And no matter how cold the weather would get, or no matter how annoying or restricting our lives in society felt, we would be enclosed in a blissful sanctuary of freedom.

I don't know if you'll read this. I doubt it, and it's probably better that way. I don't want you to fall back into the malevolant lie that you should still love me because you pity me. Don't fucking pity me. I don't need it. Everyone tells me that I can move on and get with other people easily, but I don't know if I want to just yet.

For now, I just enjoyed walking home down the roads we would walk. Feeling sad and happy at the same time. Listening to the same songs that would comically annoy you after a bit, and you would turn to me and ask me to turn it off, and I would playfully refuse.

All those games are gone now. I'm left with the unentertaining notion that I will have to fill this irreplaceable gap with something worth living for. That's gonna be hard to find.

Don't worry about me. I'll move on soon enough, but it'll never be like it used to be.
This feeling will probably never come back to me, and I will probably find someone else soon enough.
And the thought of seeing you everyday as a friend tingles incessantly in my mind. What will it be like? Will I still feel nostalgia? Or will I simply look back at those days as "old times" when we were so innocent and knew that tomorrow was gonna be made of something that would simply make our bond stronger.

I honestly don't want to know what it's gonna be like. I just want to remember this evening as the coda to the symphony that changed my life for the few months we were together.

It feels stupid to write something like this on a blog where I usually post darker things. I'm not a slave to love. I'm not a 12 year old girl. There are bigger things in my life. But this, this was different.
I just had to post this, for our sake...or maybe just mine.

And so I walked.
I walked down roads that held our many memories and stories.
The roads we walked together when we were free in perfect harmony.
And so I walked.
Alone.

Something in the air.

Something in that smell that reminds of the times when life wasn't so great and so extreme. I haven't left these 4 walls all day. The paranoia isn't lessening. Something in my fatigue that reminds me of back then. I don't want to go back at all, but my mind is driving me there. I'm not really helping myself. Something's been wrong for quite a while now. I'm becoming two distinct people, both behaving in distinct ways for two very distinct crowds of people. The lie seems to be floating in the background, but it will creep up on me eventually, and I will have to come to terms with my alter ego.

Something in that joint that reminds me of the time when I was innocent. It seems like I should go back to being sensible and innocent, since I've realised the danger of my habits. But no, I just don't want to, because I daren't turn back. I have to keep moving forward, and shit days like these don't help, and therefore cause me to turn to this fucking website and gargle all these densely layered words of despair. I'm not helping myself. I'm just half way through the tunnel. Going back or carrying on is now just the same to me. Why the fuck do I even think there's a tunnel? I've always been underground anyway.

Something in those words you said when you turned me down today. I was looking forward to seeing you, but for the first time in a while, you said you couldn't. And I could probably detect a hint of a lie in your excuse, but I couldn't tell you. I knew you really wanted to see me, but something bigger was keeping you from doing that. I have no idea what it is. I have no idea what has been going through your head ever since our stumble. I've just given up on that. I want the upper hand this time, you can't jerk people around like you did and expect them to come back. I did. I was wrong.

Something in the endoctrination of the world today. People basing their lives on erroneous facts and imaginary guardians. Everyone seems to be controlable. Everything seems to be dead. Everything I want to improve is untouchable, unbreakable, unmovable, unchangeable. I seem to be a chess piece that cannot take down the king. I've always tried to go against the run of society, but I can't. It seems like going with society, and then documenting how it fucking sucks is a lot easier. You can call me a coward, a hypocrit or whatever the fuck you want. I'm doing it to avoid a mental breakdown, not to please your fucking guilty conscience.

Something in the light that shines on my face as I try to cleanse it of all the lies and things I've done wrong. I can't seem to grasp the tip of what I want to change in me, but I know that the two parts that make my personality up are arguing whether the change is a good thing or not. This conflict inside my very being is most certainly the cause of this dazzling array of depressing thoughts. It might not, I've always turned to the dark side of things anyway. The world hasn't seen my face for a day, and I seem to be grateful for it, even though the stains won't have washed off tomorrow. I might not appear troubled as I look at myself in the mirror with the light. Light won't show you everything. It makes the surface brighter, but it doesn't lighten up the darkness beneath.

Something in the air is very wrong. I'm tired of pretending to be happy.

Let's All Make Believe
by Oasis

Is anyone here prepared to say
Just what they mean or is it too late?
For anyone here to try to do
Just what it takes to get through to you

So let's all make believe
That we're still friends and we like each other
Let's all make believe
In the end we gonna need each other

Strangle my hope and make me pray
To a god I've never seen but who I betray
To the people who live the afterlife
In the place I'll never be 'til I'm crucified

So let's all make believe
We're still friends and we like each other
Let's all make believe
In the end we'll need each other

So let's all make believe
That all mankind is gonna feed our brother
Let's all make believe
That in the end we won't grow old.

Highlight of nightfall and the hint of dawn.

Drifiting in a state of idleness and in a trip that can not even be described as "out of this world" but more like "out of this whole fucking dimension". I don't know what the fuck drove me to write this. Maybe it was to numb the pain I felt when I'd lost someone who eventually came back...
This poem seems to drift between a love story and a requiem of pure paranoia.
I don't want to find meaning, or an answer to this poem.
The lack of meaning is the answer.

--

Mindriot

Dream the dream we'll never die
Sign the pact we won't ask why.

One day you will want me elsewhere
And then I'll take pleasure in change
One day you will need me in your veins
Packing all these drugs in the wake
Of your emotional range.

Scream the scream that ends the chime
Lose yourself on the edge of time.

One day you will kill me and stay calm
And then I'll find no solace in revenge
One day you will revive me in my grave
Buried under all the dense weight
Of the minds you changed.

Live the lives that lived a lie
And drive them into my mind's eye.

One day you will lose me in the end
And then I'll lose all meaning in depth
One day you will find me under sea
Surrounded by the deep blue fragments
Of the tears you wept.

Think the thought that the others in your head aren't leading
But your great intentions did all but stop the bleeding.

One day you lost me, I am but a faded memory.
One day you needed me, I did not answer your plea.
One day you killed me, or did you really?

Mime the infernal dance
Liberate the chains of this trance.

Wake up, I do not exist
In this dream you've dwelt alone
Without direction, without a clue
I am just the other inside your head
Under every sea and beneath every grave
I am you.

--

Can someone please tell me how I've come to this?

As daylight dies.

Why am I seeing everything under a different light? Why do you seem so far away, when everyone else is so close?
It seems you're moving away. Moving to places I won't dream of going. Maybe it was never meant to be...but wait, what the fuck am I talking about? Nothing's ever meant to be. It's never meant to be anything, it just depends on what your idiot human mind makes of the situation.

I think I'm digging my own hole, but I feel that the only way out is to dig deeper. Am I losing you? Or am I losing myself? Maybe I've lost myself all along. Maybe I'm the one moving around you, desperately panicking and trying to deal with this renewed paranoia.

I don't really write about love on here. But this is troubling everything I've ever built or considered building. It seems like I was right in "Speed". The fact is that facts are meaningless. This can't be described by fact. This is but an undecipherable illusion.

Daylight is dying. I need something to deal with the long night ahead, and for the first time ever, I feel like it won't be you.

The world is meaningless. Everything is an illusion. I just wish you weren't.
I'll dig my hole deeper. Maybe a new day will dawn on the other side...if there is an other side.

The most philosophically insightful and cleverly implicit article ever posted on this blog.

When they said I should feed my head, that to me was just a day in bed.
Tonight, I'm a rock 'n' roll star. It's gonna do me fuckin' head in.

Speed.

You want some facts? You want less creative imaginary bullshit?
Fine, here are the facts:

The fact that I'm standing here in a dirty room with my hair on end and my body on pause.
The fact that nothing's ever worth a good trip, that nothing ever matters more than getting fucked up and pretending you're happy with all the fucked up chemicals making you somebody else. Somebody better.
It's the fact that I can't discern whatever is going wrong within a seemingly untouched, perfect universe in which I seem to be evolving. Nothing feels right lately. I want more, but it seems there's nothing more to desire. Lust for nothing, some might say. Having lust for nothing turns you into the faceless robots you see working in offices and buying starbucks coffee during rush hour, wearing fucking Lacoste t-shirts and shiny Ferragamo shoes. You think they're rich? They're fucking poor. I'm rich. I'm king of my world. That is all that matters now. So I'm standing in this kerosene-drenched room thinking one last frenetic thought about the meaning of creation. But I find no meaning.
Because meaning doesn't matter.

The fact that I'm sitting here in this warm room, listening to the second solo of Live Forever and wondering whether my life is still worth living since I will never be able to equal the musical genius I desire.
It's the fact that I'm really nothing at all compared to what matters.
It's the fact that I will never, in any way, make some sort of change.
It's the fact that the entertainment I have is fruitless, my friends, family and girlfiend have all been distributed to the masses for some sort of internal survival within this vast, infected sanctuary. No wait, not sanctuary. Sanitarium is more of an appropriate word to describe the face of the world.
It's the fact that the screaming coming from the room next door doesn't seem to affect my ill senses. It just doesn't matter. Nothing seems to matter but the firing neurons in my rotting spirit. Matter is nothing.
Matter has no meaning.

The fact that I'm lying here under the bitter skies of wrath that wrap around our huge cage like a whirlwind.
It's the fact that I won't live forever, like the words etched into this virtual page. This virtual page, protected by the smokescreen that is the internet, that will shed me of any possible guilt. It's the fact that my brain does not feel like a limp biscuit at this very moment. I'm aware of all the pain.
It's the fact that optimism doesn't exist. Optimism is but a diversion, driving all of us away from a fate too dark for anyone to take into serious consideration. But fate doesn't matter. It's this moment that matters. Thus consideration does not matter. There is no sense in some people's reasoning.
But reason doesn't matter. Sense doesn't matter.

The fact that the huge majority of people see the world like it is and how it could be. They just don't see the giant, gaping chasm inbetween.
It's the fact that change is irrelevant, because some fucking moron will always make it as worse as it was, or even worse than that. It's called regression, you fucks. Nothing beats regression. Even faith doesn't beat regression. It's that chilly sensation in your spine that drags you back to the filth you were drowning in before you reached a semblance of balance.
It's the fact that I miss the blend of colours she left in my black and white field. Someone uttered me that phrase once. Or maybe said it, or shouted it, or sung it.
The fact is, that black and white does not exist and does not matter.
All that exists are the uncountable shades of grey. It is the only thing that doesn't matter to us, but it fucking does.
It's about the only thing that does.

Nothing else matters. Nothing. Everything else is an illusion. Everything. Napkins, mugs, metronomes, scrap paper, encyclopedias, bubble gum packets, tissues, guitars, DVDs, bongs, books, the Bible, hammers, cushions, trees, motorways, huge televisions, breaking news radio transmissions, friday night entertainment, intoxicating saturday entertainment, sunday bloody sunday rituals, cults, omens, paintings, churches, synagogues, obelisques, canals, rivers, bridges, sugar kane, green grass, cigarettes, sand, high tides, low tides, lighthouses, metro stations, strip clubs, pet dogs, overgrown factories, abandoned mental asylums, teddy bears, nuclear warfare, ball-point pens, tanks, perfume, flamethrowers, video games, mass murders, home-made posters, pantomimes, energy drinks, batteries, vintage Gibson SG replicas, Tipp-Ex, coupons for a free bike tire, spare buttons for a suit, empty filers, pianos, fireplaces, city lights, water pumps, kid's spontaneous laughter, adult's courtesy laughter, formal meetings, elephants, chocolate, binoculars, hair straighteners, tinned chili con carne, limited edition copies of Pink Floyd's "The Wall", dystopia, potery, southern gas stations, goats, cement-mixers, work contracts, school diplomas, family, friends, lovers, hobbies, and even the finest and most precise of pleasures.
It is evident that once the knowledge in question is acquired. It is hard to find a sense of purpose. But purpose is meaningless. Purpose does not matter.
Purposelessness is purpose.

There comes a time when need takes over reason. You want to be on the borderline, safe but not so safe, until the need for risk takes over and swallows you whole. You don't need facts.

Fuck the facts, meaning and whatever seems to matter to all of you.
The fact is that facts are meaningless.
The gaping chasm is everywhere.

Teenager screamager.

Your beauty makes me feel alone.
I look inside but no one's home.

Today was such a good day.
Now all I can see is grey.

I want to move to higher ground.
With redemption spinning all around.

My skin is chappy.
My mind is mad.

You make me happy.
I make myself sad.

I've heard the calling.
I've sung my song.

Something's always been missing.
Something's always been wrong.

View from the morning after.

Woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...I was just reading through some old shit I wrote a few months ago, and I found something pretty interesting. Yes, I think that's the first time I've ever used that word on this blog.

I don't believe in interest. There are no "interesting" things, just things. And then you decide, out of your lurid human heart, whether you give two halves of a fuck or not.

Anyway, back to the subject.
I read this old text and realised how ridiculously out of date it was and how childish I was.
Here it is:

--

My life is about to hit a wall.
A very tall wall some might say.
But it's very thin. And only a few people can see that.

I don't know how it's gonna pan out. I sometimes get the impression that the youth of the nation is processed and conditioned to the extent where identity is erased. They get us going through different phases and strike us with different emotions.

Then you've got your parents behind you saying they're designed to prepare you for life. Bullshit. I've never met anyone who found what they were expecting on the other side of a wall.

But then life wouldn't be fun wouldn't it?

It's just that idea of adrenaline sprinting through our life-abiding veins.
Knowing that complete security is a long way down the line.
Knowing that other people's lives are much better than mine.

Not knowing what is on the other side of the wall.

I know my friends won't react to this upcoming wall in the same way. They'll all use their different techniques and tricks. Just like all humans do in any sort of challenging situation.

No matter how much some of us will try to avoid it, we'll all end up on the other side. Whether there of our own accord, lured or forced, we'll all be moving along. Because the wheels of the bus go round and round. They will never stop.
The bus will drag you along no matter what you try. The only way off the bus is suicide.

--

I don't think it's over. But this is all that was left, I don't think I had time to finish it, because I then hit that "wall".

Now, in all my current perplexity, I cannot believe I judged the situation that way. I was so fucking wrong.
Well, right now, with the wisdom I've acquired since that day, I can honestly say that it was no big deal. The other side was the same. The grass was not greener. It was as yellow as all the grass I've ever lied in.

The "wall" was in fact just a fucking pavement.

Grim.

I was hit by a sadness unbeknownst to me today. It's one thing to be sad. It's another to not know why, and to be driven into melancholy by a tepid form of procrastination.

Maybe it's the brown leaves finally falling off and opening into a cold and bitter winter. But it can't be, I've been looking forward to this since July.
Maybe it's my friends. But it can't be, I'm far from alone.

I don't know what it is that I can't admit to myself, but I'd rather not consider it. It looks a lot darker that the sadness I bathe in now.

Right now things are good.
But it was just better before.

I really don't think I can take all this bullshit until december.
Perhaps I should be happy with many things I can't remember.
As the embers fade, I realise going back is the only thing I wish to do.
This utopian ideology of a perfect destiny is starting to rot.
All I really know is that the past was not so dim.
The future is unimportant and alterable.
Memories are not.
Nostalgia is grim.

Erasing the sunlit streets we grew up in.

The adult world when you're a kid limits itself to chairs, desks, stacks of paper, frightening cities, a standard ringtone, boring clothes, coffee, and a frustrating desire to leave your parent's office and go back home to your confined world of care-free entertainment. But when you enter the phase of change, you start to realise that it does not limit itself to that. There is no fucking limit.

The adult world as we know it, is in fact just a giant sandbox, working with many administrations, warfronts, economical riots, political stunts and an invisible hint of artistic finesse.

It goes from the crowded cities where the buzzing is frantic and the illusion of progress is ominously present. To where the suburbs begin. Where the children play, unaware of the grinding machine that awaits them. To the countryside, where the machine's noises are silenced and the air is pure. But the people are too old and tired to make a change.

The sandbox is too heavy for an upheaval. I'll make no attempt...

I can see the wheels of the bus turning now.

We all know the emperor wears no clothes, but we'll bow down to him anyway. It's better than to be alone.

Far from the iridescent pictureframe.

Our generation was born with the aching horrors of the recent past. We were born at the end of the greatest and most horrific century of the entire human race. We narrowly missed out on grandiosity, pain, prejudice, fortune, Woodstock, war, and many revolutions.
With this burden of a heritage we wander aimlessly in this battered world left for us, with these permanent reminders that we will without doubt batter it a fair bit more for the unlucky fate of the next generation.

Countless times we omit to look back on these tragedies. To compensate for this void behind us, we get history lessons. But in no way do these pay hommage, or even come close to the importance of these terrible acts.

Some people say today's the dawn of a new age. I say it's the terrible end to a great age.

And here I sit. Here we all sit, thinking our actions actually matter.
We are nothing.

If only you look at the recent past, and all revolutions and changes, you feel worse than small.
Looking back at all this, and being the stupid fuck I am, I cannot help but feel like everything I'm doing is routine. Even the moments of excitement I get at lunch, inbetween classes, or on the weekend, feel like a routine.

Everything in each life of this miserable generation is but a straight line that refuses to diverge into insane curves and swirls. I want a sine wave.
With the knowledge we have and the lessons we've learnt from the 20th century comes excessive wisdom and cautiousness, leaving our predicaments overly predictable.

I know it sounds strange. But I just want the glimmer of excitement from the 60s or the new sound of the 90s. It's just that with the world of today I really can't see a comparable revolution on the horizon.

Life is fantastic. But we know too well what it is made of. Maybe that soon, everything will become so under control and in peace, that there will be no need for changes or new ideas because everything will be just too perfect.

Times were bitter before. And the horrors from the many wars paint our core with hate, suffering and waste. Times were bitter, but they lead to beauty eventually. Martin Luther King illuminated the world with his speeches, The Beatles revived the world of music.
Now all we have is Obama claiming in vain to be the catalyst of a new era, and Kesha "entertaining" the close-minded majority.
Yes, times were bitter before. But they were sweet. The sweet is never as sweet without the sour.

I feel my attempts to light up this darkness are too faint. I fall into despair quite often. And so everything I do, every pleasure I get is turned into monochrome fields of dead crops.

I don't know how I came to hate these times. I wish I was stupid.
I really can't see myself turning into a sensible adult that is too afraid to assault the system in fear of losing a warm home.
There is no way of avoiding that.
Yes, predictability once again.
I'm also a fucking conformist.
I'm not different.
Fuck this.

--

"I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight, because my conscience leaves me no other choice.

These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression and out of the wombs of a frail world new systems of justice and equality are being born.

A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life's roadside; but that will be only an initial act.

A true revolution of values will lay hands on the world order and say of war: 'This way of settling differences is not just.'
This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into veins of people normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice and love."

- Martin Luther King, 1967.

--

The sweet is never as sweet, without the sour.

Ink deep.

I'm not sure whether this article belongs on this blog. For one, it's not really a personal article.

Well, in fact I haven't written a full length article about life and other shit in a long while.
Maybe it's just not my thing after all.

These words of despair will now follow with a song that has sunk deep inside me, and is slowly possessing me, convincing me the lyrics are solely about my life.

In reality, it really is frighteningly close.

Cast No Shadow
by Oasis

Here's a thought for every man who tries to understand
What is in his hands
He walks along the open road of love and life
Surviving if he can

Bound with all the weight
Of all the words he tried to say
Chained to all the places
That he never wished to stay
As they took his soul
They stole his pride

And as he faced the sun he cast no shadow.

Downer.

This evening, I spent 2 hours journeying through a countryside of pure nothingness as the sun set in the sky. The light was bending beneath and above the car I was riding in. And standing amidst this startling sight, I was taken aback by the passively depressive nature of it.

I'm still in awe of the ideas that came to me on this trickling journey. I started to write a few things down.

Back to poems again, I'm sorry to say. I'm sorry because I just can't write a happy poem. It just doesn't feel right, you know?

Maybe I'm not sad. I'm just pensive.

This poem doesn't have a name. I don't think it needs one. The lack of a title suits it perfectly, as the poem itself describes the indescribable.
The indiscernable.

Don't ask me who the female character ("she"/"her") in this is. I'm really not talking to anyone in particular.
The words just give you a sample of the kind of landscape that surrounded me at that time.
Most people would call it beautiful or amazing.
It was just a deep, spiralling pit of melancholy to me.

How about you read on to taste some of this pensiveness.

--

I could see the end of the world in her eyes
As we gather our lives
In cries and sighs.

We've sucked the will to live
Out of our worn out womb
And so the planets align
To make out the shadow of a tomb.

The curves of her face only just inspire me
When I'm staring up,
Depressed so convincingly.

Keeping me a unit
Above the fearful fate I've carved
Does not make me feel alive
I'm just an empty soul that has starved.

I might be dead of alive in the middle of nowhere
The thought of lying beside the void
Might be getting me somewhere.

I fly beneath indifference
Far from love
For I now know, that in any world
Peace is no dove.

Peace is just a machine
A huge break from that dream.

My spirituality
Offers no dramatization
As far as you can see
Watch out for me
As I journey on the path
To self-realization.

--

I'm afraid by the words I can draw out of my mind, and the ties that bind.
I really need to hit the ground and find the world again.

Champagne supernova.

Well here I sit once again. In front of my computer after a long and eventful day.

It's good to feel at home and at ease. With the likes of At The Drive-In, Death Cab For Cutie and Oasis blasting out of my speakers and all the great memories from today to keep me company.

Life is immaculate at the moment.
Living with and meeting a lot of new exciting people.
Discovering a whole range of different things.

Go back to the march archive and read "Happy Accidents and Peaceful Riots" if you can be fucked.
I really have changed a lot.
It seems like a fucking age since last march.

I've been happy many times before, but never like this.
I don't feel like bitching about anything right now.
I feel no anger, pain, envy or melancholy.
I just feel like living.

This might well be what happiness is.

A sense of abstract.

Today was a good day. At the moment I'm stellar.
But the euphoria of when I'm with my friends lasts for another few hours after the great moments have passed. But then I'm once again left with these fucking melancholic thoughts and this website to type shit up on.

I'm too lazy to type many more things about me being a whiny white kid that finds sadness in a life that is offering me many happy days.
Read this poem. I wrote it not long ago, and it's different from everything else I've ever written. It doesn't tell a "story" like other poems do. It's just a list of images, two words put together to paint an unnerving painting of mystery.

It will mean a different thing to everyone of you. Because, like I've said many times before, we all react to everything in a different way. The picture or painting will be ridiculously different in every single one of your minds.

Let the confusion ingulf and embrace you.
This is just to give you a sense of abstract.

Sundown Forever

Little brother.
Bad paperdoll.
Disgraced mother.
Emergency call.

Hit the ground.
Weep again.
Hear the sound.
Avoid the train.

Dive to sea.
Crave hereafter.
Climb the tree.
Escape the cluster.

Break the cycle.
Freeze the fever.
Weak disciple.
Sundown forever.

Stoned for more.
See the light.
Make it sore.
Close it tight.

Sit back and cry.
Destroy the den.
Crawl away, die.
And start again.

Why am I still posting depressive shit on this site when I'm so happy in the daytime?

On these slow nights when I don't go out, I'll always turn back to this blog. It's fucking stupid really.

I was sliding away but chasing the sun is easier.
I'm still stupidly happy during the day and on some nights. But not now. Right now, I'm in a self-induced trance, reaching inside the pit of my guts to bring you some of the neat and fluid strings of sentences that I type out here. These sentences that you probably think will give you the answer to life.

I don't know anything really.
All I know is that I'm still fucking typing.
But you know, I've still got plenty of stuff to ramble and rant about.
Just to let you know, I'm not going away just yet.

Stellar.

You know, I'm really starting to dig this whole new "there is no answer to life, so let's have fun" thing. It's a good vibe.

Maybe change really isn't so bad after all.

But don't you worry, I'm still sorry for a lot of things.
I know sorry isn't enough. Nothing is ever enough.

But I'm still digging this whole new thing.
Looks like we've found the good times again.

I don't know if it's too much to ask after all the good stuff I've been getting, but can I put these last few days on repeat?

Chase the sun before it's time to slide away.

So I wrote this short narrative the other day, and I thought it could be a decent thing to share, instead of swearing for 9 paragraphs (watch me spill my guts and go ape shit in the article below).

The narrative captures a relatively short moment I wish I could've saved. I wish I could've filmed it or taken a picture. But instead of a slurred motion picture or a neat snapshot, all I am left with is regret.
It's a moment that felt familiar at first. I feel I have already experienced it, but only now can I feel its looming presence over my shoulder.

What is below could spark the beginning of a novel or something. But then again, all I wanted was to capture and imprison that unique moment of extreme solitude concealed through layers of cold-heartedness.
All I want is to take revenge on that moment that imprisoned me that evening.

That moment is imprisoned in the serene flow of words that follows below:

--

I sat outside that night. The breeze was bitter, but the air was soothingly cool. It was a wonderful evening. A hint of fertility amidst the dry, blazing summer days that made up the asphyxiating month of august. I stared at the fiery flames settled into the welcoming womb of the sun setting in the sky. Those flames were there every night, tainting that otherwise pristine skyline. Always there. In that spot.
Unmovable.

I sat in an unnerving position that was twisted but still comfortable. My phone (only substantial connection to the world) was lying to my right. My hand curled around a beer to my left.
The wind got stronger and the subliminal noises were amplified. It made me feel small. The chairs rocked harder, the bells jingled louder, the water rippled stronger.

I took a sip of my beverage, savouring every tasty drop of that Heineken labelled wonder of liquid bliss. For the first time, I was enjoying this.
With all the insane days and nights I had experienced, on holiday and at home, I had never taken the time to stop and wonder at some of the fine subtelties this devious world has to offer.

Music was playing at half volume on my phone. To reinforce the already seductive soundtrack of the moment, Elliott Smith's "Needle in the Hay" followed by Oasis's "Gas Panic" were summoned. They are two of the most dazzling songs ever written.

With all these components present, I felt a glimmer of déja vu as the last rays of the sun penetrated the clouds, turning them a glossy pink and purple. I felt like Tom Cruise in "Vanilla Sky".
This moment didn't feel real. All of a sudden I lost myself, and found myself in the limbo-like feeling of not knowing whether you're awake or dreaming.

Then I hit the floor and realised. It's fucking over.
My period of immortality. Our period of immortality. Tomorrow we will be reluctantly dragged back. But, in the great words of the Beatles and Oasis: "Tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon".

The sun was shining it's final rays, dissolving the great abyss of daylight. Leaving an almighty chasm of doubt for me to gaze into.

I have run across summer. I've never had this much fun in what is usually a pretty slow time. Only now do I realise that 2 months have passed and I am not the same.

I took a sip of my beer. My phone died and so the seductive soundtrack was obliterated by an aching silence. I was now out in the open.
My bottom lip curled furtively around my teeth. A playful movement some might say, as I was trying not to lose track. But sometimes to understand you have to lose track.

I think that that's what happened. I lost track. And here I stumble onto this stepping stone that is oh so far away from each riverbank.

I had lost myself. I'd started to confuse my emotions. I didn't really know who I was.

It's as if I was looking at myself through someone else's eyes. What I saw was surprising.

I thought I had complete control. That by documenting all of this on my blog I would be in control of everything I feel and have.

I was infinitely wrong. I really can't keep track. I think that the inexorable stream of life will take me somewhere where I can keep track again. Now that I'm young and admittedly stupid, I have to let go and appreciate everything this icewarm world has in stall.

--

I don't know where that narrative came out from.
The fucking thing wrote itself. But all of it is hauntingly true. I'm losing control of what I thought I could master.

I have spent all this time chasing the sun. Now it's time to stop.

It's not so bad though, because now it's time to slide away.
Tomorrow won't know.
Tomorrow never knows.

Fuck neat titles, I just wish the thought of reading this would ever cross your mind.

Don't fucking tell me what's good and what's not for me. That's what being fucking young is about. Doing whatever the fuck you want. Doing shit that you would never fucking dream of doing once you're a full grown adult cunt. That gives you a bit of motherfucking freedom in this fuck-ass shit world.

If the two people that fucking own you until you're 18 don't even fucking grant you that freedom, I don't see what the fucking point is in living through this fucked up life anyway. Ending it sooner or later won't fucking matter.

Maybe I should be more balanced. Maybe I should care more about making a puny, unimportant fucking omelette to make your fucking arms flutter. Maybe I should show more respect. But I do. I fucking do.

I just can't show it. You see, if there's any teenager that respects his elders a shitload. It's me. I just think you're perfect. Honestly.
And that's why it's all fucking up now. Because you're ridiculously perfect, and that's a fucking hard thing to live up to. And I have since given up. I want to live while I can...which is something I don't think you did.

I'm gonna live twice the fucking life you lived.

But I won't push off completely, I'll keep guard on serious things to fall back on once I'm done with this whole growing up shit.
But I still want to feel alive, before I'm pretty much a dead fuckwad. Before I'm fucking incinerated or buried in a fucking pine box six feet under a shit-stained world which offered the little freedom I was fucking willing to take.

I sometimes get the impression that you have never sensed pure life on the end of your fucking fingertips.

I am one of the rare people that are aware that it's fucking impossible not to get sucked into that devilish spiral of society. But I'm not even fucking there yet. So let me have my fucking fun while I still have the option to be motherfucking FREE.

I know it's hard on you. I know that I do things you will never ever understand. I'm just fucking disappointed that you didn't try the same things when you were young, so that you could at least tolerate my lust for life.

You'll never fucking believe your eyes when I don't end up, washed up on the shores as a fucked up hobo with nothing to fucking put in my fucking dry mouth, pleading you for some fucking spare change.
You'll see when I end up right in there, just as reasonable a cunt as you are.

And you'll be proud. Yes you'll be motherfucking proud.

And I'll have twice the memories to live with and cherish while I work in an office doing a job I've never fucking liked earning more money than I would need for my own bastardly ego.

I've seen the way people completely run across life. Or simply fucking avoid it. I've seen people missing out on the subtelties and the awesomeness the world has in stall for you.

I don't want to be boring. I don't want to sit on my fucking couch every night, watching an annoyingly cheesy TV show. I don't want to wonder how much fucking fun I could be having at this very moment.

I would like your company. I would love it. I actually love it. You know that I've always been deeply engraved in you. You know that I look up to you.

But I know I'm smart enough to do even better. I'm gonna fucking live. I'm gonna live with passion. I want to be with my fucking friends while I still have them. Before they'll all break up to leave each other alone to deal with that fucking fuckshit bully that is money.

I fucking love you. But the fucking problem is that the sobriety of your youth is tainting the boundary-bending nature of mine.

I will do what it takes to live life to it's extent. As far as the rabbit hole goes. Before I'm lying on my fucking death bed wishing I had done this or that.

You say I isolate myself from you. It's you that have fucking isolated yourselves from every adventure freedom was willing to offer.

You just don't realise the subconscious peer pressure you inflict on me. Ordering me to follow in your fucking footsteps. I don't want to live the same life as you. I've heard so much about it. I want to live something new, unexpected and extreme.

Honestly, life beats perfection.
I want to fucking live in the moments where you just resorted to exist.

Fire.

I know you're gonna find this repetitive, but I just can't get these things out of my mind. It's going to be Circle Takes the Square again. Another song/poem that makes me have that fluttery feeling somewhere between body and soul.

The softly interwoven, yet forcefully shaken words that will follow are dark, deep, yet infinitely true and haunting. I do believe this poem's about self-realization and the realization of your surroundings and your, admittedly infested, nest...that we have all grown up, lived, been knocked up, and died in. With no other option.

Though this poem is surprisingly long, every single word affects me and glares at its twin, that is hidden within me.

I read this poem and it lights me up.
Like fire.

It just seems like it pinpoints a light at me, exposing the deepest part of my conscience and ripping it out, frantically keeping it an inch away from me. And so I read the poem to get closer to what is buried deep within. This is so much more mind-blowing than any regular life has to offer.

Let this light you up.

Kill the Switch
by Circle Takes the Square

Map the words to deny, deny the symptoms
As 'oh yeah I'm doing fine'
As I've found a most endearing psychosis.

Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear
Desperate as I am I just can't strip bare
And bleed the only purity I've known.

But I lay with reason.
I found logic concieved in a walk with skin.
I sleep with reason producing these monsters.

Under painted catcalls as in temptation
Yeah there's a key to be in
But there's no shade, no shade to blame.

Waterfalls in a cool grey
And the struggle
Is colored grey this day

The caw of crows fills up the picture plane.
Our picture plane is veiled in central neutral grey
Absinthe to slight the pain
This world's the worst case color scheme.
Streaks of oil stain
Stained the road he crawled on homeward
Oh yeah, oh yeah he threw the switch
With some unwieldy gauge
Absence of light remains.

I lay with reason so logic
Can reap in a walk with sin
El sueno razon produce monsinios.

When does this dream end?
Now I've missed
Another whole season.

I've missed the fall,
Clearly its fallen on this land
As fields once green are ochre now.

This is no dream. Trees have turned to skeleton
Roots teased and knotted
Just below the surface skin of ground.

Stitched between the earth
And the sky
Struggling to hold it down.

Sometimes to realize you have to lose track
Lose track of sight blurring my vision
Makes it clear that tiny moving parts make up the whole.

The image is clear, a tower is built of my own pride
I cry in the shade that if offers
The only shelter I have.

When does this dream end?
This is no dream
This is the waking living breathing caricature of a memory.

Shamelessly I cave in to temptation of creation
But still my only thrill
Is empty sidewalks, silent streets.

The caw of crows fills up the picture plane.
This is your picture plain in central neutral grey.
This world's the worst case color scheme.
Streaks of oil stain,
Stained the road he crawled on homeward.
Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch
With some unwieldy gauge
Absence of light remains.

Life is lowly anonymity
In death a noble pose, a Marat David.
Tell me who wouldn't give their lives
For such a soap box to die behind.

Life is lowly anonymity
In the space of a smile I found sleep
As in sorrow, so shall ye reap,
As in reason so shall ye sleep.

Reap the promised end to the struggle
Reap every point on our linear path
Reap the smiles in time we borrow
Every harvest relies on the last.
Reap the promising song of the sparrow,
That they learned from the birth of sea
Silenced by the threnody of the crows
Reap the fallen fruit of the dogwood tree.

But I witnessed in all this silence
One souls definition of beauty
And a backlit smile so temporary.

A facade so rich with evil history.
Cast in direct opposition set to
Overwhelm this moment to shine and sleep.

Came out on top of what was borrowed
And found all that beauty to be still
Every breath as in sorrow
Reap the promised end to this path
By every image that we borrow
Every harvest depends on the past.

Subdivide in factions our linear parabola
We subdivide our waking hours to sleep
While guilty eyes turn toward a porchlight
Enlightenment is losing sight.

Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear.
In this low light town when my shift begins
The streets reflecting yellow, yellow, yellow
In the vacancy that overwhelms the red, red, red
Your vehicle the color of expansion.

"Open up." the latter just a thought to thrill me
"Knock knock knock" the latter just a thought to thrill me
"Red" is a four letter word. Four letter invitation
Now my head is locked in the direction of the sun.

Life is lowly anonymity
In death a noble prose, a Marat David
Tell me who wouldn't give their lives
For such a soap box to leave behind.

Life is lowly, anonymity
I know its all been done before
I want to do it again. I want do it again.
Kill the switch.

This night our journey's through the dark
Kill the switch, a welcome comatose
Tonight we journey through the darkness
As in sorrow, so shall ye weep,
As in reason, so shall ye sleep.

Ignorance is bliss.

It could be easy. I could stop writing this blog and go with the mass since I'm already above it. They're all predictable machines. Life is theirs, they live it their way. The easy way.

Well now that I consider it, all my friends and I are so much fucking smarter than the general mass (that wear adidas trackpants every day and speak like they have a chicken bone in their mouth, might I point out), that we could go into their game, and beat them to it.

We could do that.
The outcome would actually be better than the one awaiting us now.

Our current outcome will not be as glorious. Because we ask ourselves too many questions. Being so fucking smart isn't really that convenient.

Genius is the closest thing to madness. And we all know that the line is infintely thin and fragile...

I don't pity small bugs, the mentally insane or retarded children. I envy them.
Physically, their life is a nightmare, but they're too dazed to realise what a twisted and illogical world us valid people interact with.
Which is, ironically, every sane man's dream.

I could just drift away in the mass and let my originality fade.
I could be happy, albeit stupidly happy.

I really don't know why the question arose in my mind in the first place.

Maybe it's because of change, and how life happens on a variety of different levels.

There is no such thing as understanding anyone else. There is no such thing as knowing how someone feels. You want to live in a world with these things, then go spend your life in fucking hollywood with your plastic friends and hired wife (could also work the other way around). You believe in a fake world then go live in it, and stop bothering the real people.

You cannot understand anyone or feel anyone because we all think and interpret things on different levels. We all make out the signals in the air in a different way. Nothing really exists in the spaces between us. We're all completely disconnected from each other. As we see life in different shapes and sizes, and react to it in some insane ways.

Retarded kids don't have to interpret. They don't have to react. They don't have to feel or understand. They just...are. And we feel obliged to feel sorry for them, because they've been labeled invalid.

If they were aware of this, they would consider themselves lucky.

However much of a rebel you feel. However much of an outcast you are. However much of a failure you fear to become. You are still part of a machine. A system.

And you cannot get out of the system, since you are the system. It draws from you. No one could live without it.

The mass will not notice that. And they will be happy. Oh so ignorantly so.
The invalids will not have the heart nor the physical capacity to care, or even notice.

And here we are. Us. Stuck. Too smart to be stupidly happy. But far too dumb to overpower the system. And here we lie, in a place that isn't easy to be in.

People don't change. We'll stay here forever. And so will everyone else.
The system always wins.

But why do I question my world? Why do I disturb my basic notions? Why do I endlessly push at my mental boundaries? Why do I torture my nerves with this shit?
Why did I even notice the system in the first place? I could be stupidly happy. And all the other people like me want to be too. That's why some of us do drugs or drink. Because it gives us an impression that we're finally closer to that ignorant ecstasy.

So I guess I'll try to live with it in the future. I'll keep all these words stored up somewhere and attempt to live a normal life.
Pay my bills, eat my food, raise my kids, have sex with my wife.

And maybe sometimes I will look back at what I'm writing at this very moment, and remember what it was like to know.

What it was like to be face to face with the absolute truth.

100mph.

You slither through, and never think to question why.
You shut the door, that was your life flying by.

Gravity doesn't grant me the privilege of failure.

Let's try something new. I mean, you've heard enough of my words. Ingested enough of my thoughts. You've been opened to my views.

How about I give you a poem now that was not written by me? It's a poem that gave me the same feeling I've been trying to transfer to you through my own articles and poems.

I think it's one of the most beautiful things ever written. Many people don't see it, because humanity is shit.
"If the average human being can relate to a song that goes 'You like boys, who dig girls, who dig boys, who dig girls etc.' better than to a song that goes 'Maybe I don't really wanna know how your garden grows, because I just wanna fly'...then that is sad." - Liam Gallagher, Oasis vocalist.

Most people think that guy's a fuckhead, but can a guy that says something like that really be a fuckhead? I think not.
This poem is beautiful and deep. You cannot avoid it digging into you and grasping what is hidden deep inside you. It's so beautiful that it even played a significant role in my decision to start all this. Well now I think it's time for me to acknowledge it.

It's a sad poem. Because you can work your way up to happiness from sadness, and that's an effort worth documenting. It is not, however, worth putting the dark fall down to misery on this site. I've stressed it enough before.

So, when you read this poem, consider your life. And maybe then you'll realise how spoiled you really all are. How far backwards our lifestyle has taken us from reality.

Note: this is actually a song by a band called Circle Takes the Square, but I prefer to consider it a poem, because what this song has to offer musically is too extreme for the large majority of the population.

Crowquill
by Circle Takes the Square

Nothing's as lucid as the promise of dreams
But these pills we found just make me sleep.
There's nothing quite as pure as the written word my dear
So let’s have ourselves a little poem.

Until the will to speak loses urgency,
Our animal indecency in print is so blaze.
It’s about the bell tower, at the golden hour.
Angel of the spires climbs here
Steel cage staircase spine, angle of desire.
Ascend the wrought iron, one by one, wrung by wrung.
Is it the rising roof line that
Makes me feel so swallowed whole?
Or the way my body barely pricks the sky?
The same as a century's worth of virgin's blood
That's passed through my longing veins,
Scheming to convince my aching mind
That pleasure's got nothing on the miracle of need.

Nothing's as puerile as meter and rhyme
When you can't see the ground from that ledge
And this perch is so far, far from the nest.
Gravity doesn't grant me the privilege of failure

My bough never breaks; I don’t stumble into anything,
So I climb and I carve my initials in the bark
With that feather I found but its all so contrived.
My genes didn't bless me with the foresight of a sage
But I know how this will end:
In apologies and ink on the page.
A slowly constructed crow quilled confession
Of my spirit to all of you,
Black waterproof ink scars the board,
So hot-pressed, pristine and pure,
A slowly constructed manifestation of "to tremble",
As base as a bridge in a song
And less like the poem that I promised you

Nothing's as lurid as Haiku d’Etat
On sidewalks in white outlined chalk,
All I’ve got is this ink smeared lines
With our voices in harmony,
The offering of a crow quilled threnody.

The agonizing act of making a decision.

A lot of people like to ask...wait let me rephrase that.

A lot of people like to pressurize us about the choice of our future lifestyle. Especially us, adolescents. And for anyone who happens to be reading this who isn't a teenager, don't deny that you've been through the same thing.

Well, we're at the turning point. We've slowly left behind the simple decisions of childhood and are slowly moving towards the dizzying array of choices and decisions that makes up adulthood. But we're in neither place yet. And so all those bizarre thoughts echo through our minds. They can be optimistic, pessimistic, realistic or can simply make no sense at all.

A countless number of people pressurize us to fall into the majority, because it's easier. And, something else that's wrong, is that if you go along with the majority you will succeed. It's not going with the crowd that leads to oblivion. It should be the other way around.

But who ever dreamt of a perfect world? Except for Jesus of course.
But who's ever dreamt of Jesus? Religious people.
Okay then has anyone rational ever dreamt of Jesus? No.
There you have it. Pretty simple really.

Oh and to all you religious folks that read my blog (well I'm surprised you can even stand it since I slate you so much), don't say that calling you irrational is an insult. If you were rational, religion wouldn't even exist.

Although I don't blame Jesus. Actually quite an innovative dude. It's that so many people argue about the colour of his beard or the size of his...anyway back to the point.

So I was saying that the world leaves you with a paradoxal choice (that appears very rational and sensible to many of you fucked, faceless freaks that fell into the majority right when you were born).
But the choice is so paradoxal, and in essence so ridiculous, that you end up accepting it and appreciating it.

I mean, I'm sure many people that are deeply buried in the world's rules and laws could've been the craziest, most pro-anarchy and free teenagers that ever lived.

I think that's when you are really yourself. You don't get mature when you're older, you just learn how to act in public. (Who said that? I really can't remember.)

Life breaks your fantastic stride of perfect and utter self-righteousness. And life teaches you not to act just with your core and what you believe in. It teaches you to build a wall around yourself and to paint that wall a nice little colour you can show to the world.

You shits, those walls have ruined our lives.

I honestly don't know what lifestyle I wish to have, or what lifestyle I can aspire to.
I could have the potential to live like fucking Bill Gates owning hundreds of fucking mansions across the world and drowning in my own goddamn fortune.
I could have the determination and the malice to live like Obama, and control nations that I've never really believed in from the start.
I could have the talent to become a famous actor or famous musician.

But I don't really want any of those things. I want to live the life I want to live. Whether or not that's accompanied by intoxicants or days of looking for a fucking job.

I know that's not sensible. But I want to live with my friends and family. Play music in my band. Go out all the time.
That's probably what will happen in the few years to come as I reach the end of the inbetween period.

But I know that I will stupidly fall in love and then have to support a family. I know that I will resort to getting into a decent university just to survive.
I mean, that isn't a bad lifestyle. No. Especially if I'm in love.

But none of us have the will power to stand up and live life like a part of a dream.
Those who do have had their plan thwarted and their pride destroyed. And they are now struggling to fall back into the majority, having missed the free pass they were given at the end of adolescence.

I shudder at the thought of any of those outcomes.
I want time to stand still.
I hate certain types of change.

I really don't want to have to betray the ideas that I put down on this site.
I don't know if I will.
I don't know if I'll fall inertly into the sickening majority.
I don't know if I won't, and then if I'll try desperately to fall inertly into it anyway.

I really don't know anything. Not until the turning point comes.

Infernal tradition.

It's all about the prevention isn't it?
It's about stopping us younger kids from getting the cigarettes, the drugs, the alcohol. Just like you tried with our 20 year old older brothers and sisters that are now our idols. Well they ended up pretty fucked up didn't they? But the worst part is that we know what's gonna happen. We know the consequences. We know the dangers, the taboos. We know what will happen to our lungs and brain. We know how bad and irresponsible we look. 

And we are going to make no attempt whatsoever, to go in the other direction. None.
We pretend to want to be healthy, a model teenager. But we know that we'll end up the same. We even want it. Soon we'll be the ones intoxicated by a lot of illegal substances, and getting laid with someone that isn't your girlfriend or boyfriend every saturday night.

We are the heirs, the descendants. The next ones up. The classes way above have finished school and are already regretting and cutting down. 

But we still need it. All that bad shit. And we honestly know that it's hypocritical, but the social pressure and the human need is too great. The choice is too simple for us fucked up young people.

We won't follow advice, for as long as we can. Until the day when we'll end up on the rocky shores of adulthood, with all our idols. Now very similar to us.

And we'll drown in misery and regret, trying desperately to cut down and to tell all our selfish kids that they shouldn't fall into the same trap
we fell into. 

But we know, they'll do just the same. They too will have that goal of fucking up. And then it'll be all about the prevention again, only we'll be the ones trying to prevent.
And they will be the ones ignoring us, and continuing that infernal tradition.

I don't know what my gain is really. Sitting in total darkness writing this down for a website not many people know exists. I just think it reminds me of what's coming, and all the traditions lying ahead.
 

I think I'm dumb...maybe just happy.

Bear with me, and maybe you'll feel sorry for ever thinking you would want to go anywhere else. We're too young to care.

Live with me, and be thankful that you didn't fall into hands even dirtier than mine.

Die with me, and maybe you'll feel a hint of guilt and regret for not going elsewhere, but we'll be too old to care.

We won't know who the fuck we are on sunday morning.
Smile on your brother. Everybody get together, it's uber-time right now.
Start living.

Just felt like sharing those few words.
Now go do something else, instead of reading this blog.

A new transition.

Well, we have come this far.

We started as single-celled beings too small to even care or measure up to the life we have built for ourselves now.
We could have stayed like that, and none of this would exist, but we didn't you see. Competition made a huge differnce. And here we stand now, with all our possessions, fantasies and problems.

Some of us say it was all meant to be this way. That everything has been scripted out, pre-determined so that every single move, every tiny change is preset, and has already been asigned a consequence.

Maybe those people like to think that because they are afraid of the future.
They desperately want to find a reason for a few random explosions and reactions that ended up triggering the colossal empire of matter that belongs to us.
The matter becomes so obsessive, that in fact those people completely eliminate the idea of future, and replace it with the concept of destiny.

Yes, it is obvious that you don't feel so insecure when you've thrusted everything that awaits into your God Almighty's hands.
It's much easier isn't it?
You can blame everything you want on the untouchable idea of God.
You can simply cast away the idea of taking chances, because your destiny is oh so conveniently waiting for you at the end of the line.
It's just so much easier isn't it? You fucking hypocrit.

The paths that have made us the fascinating (albeit monstrous) creatures that we are were not predefined. We weren't given a guidebook. Humans went with what they thought best, and have somehow survived.
Tribe became village, village became town, town became city, city became metropolis. And it's only when you look back at it that you realise that nothing has changed inside the world we live in.

It's us that have changed.
We've changed. We've stained our home with the marks of our presence, but that doesn't change the world. That's just changed what we've made of it.

We live, we die, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.
That is the unquestionable, unoverthrowable, truth about the mass of human life.

Now let's zoom in.

An individual, one solemn soul can not have the same view of everything that is chained to the ever-advancing progression of his existence. He is only given a small glance, and that glance gives you chances, choices, opportunities. The way you handle all of that makes you who you are, not your "destiny".

Me, you, other people...even though we're friends, brothers, sisters, lovers, we are all alone. Separate. Unretrofied. We have all fallen into some category: the lucky ones or the not so lucky ones (like I talked about last time).

We're all witnesses of some kind of advancement enclosed inside the great abyss of time.
The elements of change hit us one after the other.
As we get older, we get to know more and more. We're hit by high points, and unbearably low ones. We all progress in time, adding on new elements every day, but we all forcibly keep in touch with the euphoria and ecstasy of childhood.

We react differently as the rules of life slowly uncover. Some fall into drugs, prostitution...others learn, and raise themselves higher.

With that revelation of the truth comes an inexorable disappointment and a desperate need to collapse back into a better past. Commonly known as nostalgia.

As you age, days seemingly get shorter and more meaningless. As you start to see days that are identical to others, whereas when you were very young, every day was a new adventure.

I am shaken by time passing, spitting more and more truth at me. I'm also enjoying the little things in life more now, since the big things can only promise a bunch of shit.

I can not see people change, because I am changing. I'm moving way too fast in the shaky and indecisive period that is adolescence.

But all in all, we are just thousands of thriving minor characters that probably won't affect the grinding path of time. Time, our one true master.

We are all walking down our own private, invisible paths that we've drawn ourselves up to now, and that we will draw until the end, in surfeit or need.
That's life.
That's our time under the spotlight.
That's our existence.
That's it, and there's nothing else.

There is no such thing as destiny.

Unretrofied.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I realise how lucky I really am. I'm healthy, alive, and I am still capable of wearing a smile upon my face.
Some people can't look themselves in the mirror because they do not want to sense or even catch a glance of the unquestionable truth: that some people are not lucky, that some people can't evolve and move on, because they are busy trying not to die, that some people couldn't even look into a mirror even if they wanted to.

We are the wealthy ones. The chosen ones.
There has to be a loser, and a winner. It shouldn't be that way, but none of us could ever come close to changing that.
We know we are lucky. We see it on the streets. Inside our homes. On TV.
We sense it when we chew on a juicy steak, or drink a sweet milkshake.

Most people aren't strong enough to even consider a world without these things, so they get on with their lives by working in an office doing a job they don't like, ready to buy their fat, fucked up kids another donut with all the crucial money they own.

Others, such as me, like to get a glimpse of the truth, what is below. We like to touch the filth of reality with our fingertips, but we also can't even bear with the idea of jumping in and exploring the rabbit hole.

And then there's that third group. Those healthy Europeans, Americans, Canadians or Japanese that help a poor country or join a help organisation in the feeble attempt to change something. They make a miniscule difference, and they know that even they can't change the world.
They do it because it releaves a tiny portion of the massive burden of guilt all the lucky ones possess, whether they acknowledge the guilt or not.

The leaders tell you that life is a competition and that you shouldn't feel for the losers.
The inert follow the leaders.
And the free write it down, as if the written word could somehow bring everyone to reason.
I do that.

If there is a God, He created joy and bliss for a lot of us, but He forgot a big part of the world.
His heart maybe just isn't big enough for everyone.

Well...short article, but meaningful.
It's short because I don't want to sense the truth any longer.
The path down the rabbit hole is just too unbearable.

Hop on your rainbow, and leap into oblivion.

There's an infamous question that is: Would you rather be blind or deaf?

When someone asked me it a while back, I didn't know. Well now I do, and if that person is reading these very words, they will have their answer.

I'd rather be blind. By far. Simply because music is the biggest part of my life.
Music is everything to me.

But wait hang on, I'm not talking about the music you hear on the radio or during music theory class.
When I listen to classical music like Mozart, Bach or Beethoven, and I see tons of music fanatics around me drooling at its so called "beauty", I feel perplexed.
OK fine, that kind of music is majestic. Beautiful in many ways.
And being a musician myself I can tell you that those boys knew a shitload about how to change key or finish with a perfect cadence.

But this is the catch: there's no human implication in it. Even in opera, while that fat lady in a tight dress sings, I can't help but feel uneasy and insensitive to the gibberish she is crooning.
Mozart, Bach and Beethoven knew every corner and every crack in the system and the rules of music. They just didn't express emotion explicitly enough.

I know many classical music fanatics will disagree with me, and I'm sure that a different mind would look at it a different way. But this is my blog. It's my mind. It's the view I'm getting.

The music that means a lot to me is not what Bach spouted out to finish another predictable symphony. The music I'm talking about is music that touches you. Gives you the chills. Frightens you because you can remember exactly where you were and how you felt the first moment when you heard that heart-moving riff or chorus.
It reminds you of that time, and ultimately opens you the gates of a different world with different rules. Some world, (like I've talked about before in A Thousand Vacancies), where everything is stripped off except for your soul. And your emotions inflate and invade the sky, forcing you to acknowledge them.

And then you feel some kind of connection with what the artist, singer or band, is expressing. That gives me the chills.

I, for one, have lead a life that has been guided by music. Now my taste is so precise, so deep, that I can listen to a song over and over and not get bored, because that song plays a story in my head.

Many songs have given me the chills, because of their power, softness, darkness or beauty. One song that I just feel I have to mention is Alexisonfire's "Pulmonary Archery". It is a song that appears ugly to most, because most of the vocals are screamed.
However, the extraordinary guitar and bass introduction is just mesmerizing. I still don't understand the full meaning of the lyrics, but just that introduction reminds me of a time of my life, that's probably too personal, and too weird to talk about, because it haunts me still to this day.

If I was deaf, I wouldn't be able to hear the beautiful caress of the violin, the beady touch of the piano, or the furry vibration of the bass guitar. I couldn't hear the birds sing melodies no one listens to, or the presidents lead nations with their microphones, or the children innocently laughing at other people's misfortune.
I wouldn't be able to hear the entire world talking at the same time, distorting words, drowning compliments, amplifying insults. I wouldn't be able to hear every last person on this earth trying to raise their voice higher, just for the sake of power.

Now that I think of it, being deaf is as bad as being blind. But sometimes I just have to feel that being isolated from a world like this isn't such of a disadvantage. Being in your own world, far from the disaster the collective world has become.

We all live in our own private worlds, but we all desperately try to stain other people's worlds with out territory.

Just like I'm doing right now. With you.

Before I go, I'll leave you with the lyrics to one of the greatest modern rock songs ever made.
This is the crack in the wall.
This is the break in the fall.
This is meaning.
Listen to this next time you're thinking of grooving to Kesha. And maybe, just maybe, you'll change.

Pulmonary Archery
by Alexisonfire

It’s never too late to be early
Or to try and maintain some scrap of
Integrity and certainty I guess.

My fingers are blistered and bleeding
There’s no longer discomfort you brought me.

But I wont apologize, and 1977
Was a long time ago. I don’t care.

I don't care how things were
And I won't apologize.
I won't apologize.
Fuck you.

The Alamo has been penetrated
And there is little hope for the white man
So hop on your rainbow, ride it

My fingers are blistered and bleeding
There’s no longer discomfort you brought me.

So hop on your rainbow, and leap into oblivion.
For all I care you can be early or late, whatever.

Pick some sense out of this.

Fuck you.
It's a feeling, an emotion. Not something you can trigger by looking at a picture or reading some text or crap. It's self-induced. Uncontrolable.

Time is maddening. When I consider every single second ticking off at every single fucking moment of this universe, I just think how frantic they could be. Or how peaceful, but why would anyone want something like that?

Peacefulness brings me a feeling of missing out. I'm probably missing out on something awesome in this life. Well, no. I'm missing out on a lot more shit than on awesomeness. But it doesn't take me away from this self-induced lunacy.

Sanity is insanity.
Happines is depression.
Vices are virtues.
Success is luck.
Peace is war.
Drugs are medicine.

What the fuck was all that about? I don't know, but it makes sense. Every element that makes everything up is always ever attracted to its opposite. Even though it's not directly visible, everything is intimately linked to what it completely contradicts. You can consider politics, religion, different cultures, traditions or even just music, and you will be left with the same fact.

The fact is like Pi. So difficult to discern and decipher, but so lethally exact. I mean, take Stalin and Hitler as an example. They wanted two completely different things, but achieved them using the same means.

Maybe the world was born like this. Maybe we just made it that way. Maybe you're not following me anymore.

Okay, I'll put into words you can all understand.

The world of today has a reputation of a free world among the higher tier of the population. It is true in many many ways, but the contradiction of this fact is dangerously present.
For example, in no way can you survive today without a safe job and a fucking business diploma to become a faithful employee (a boring fuckwad) working for a company that does something everyone hates. You can't live your passion. I don't care what people say. You just can't.
Living your passion is all what living is about. If you can't do that, you don't live, you just exist.
If you really want to live your passion nowadays, it's suicide.

And there it is again. That fact.

Suicide is considered imoral, insane, an action that is drained of all reason. You see, the opposite is almost as relevant, if not more. Suicide, in this world, is reasonable. Human. It's escaping the insanity (disguised as wisdom) that floods the streets and skies of the nest we live and breed in.
And we breed our children with that same state of mind.

Very soon peace and war will have completely swapped sides.

They will have swapped sides, and we will be completely oblivious to it. Just as oblivious as we are to everything that is born inside our walls. We're oblivious to everything, ever since the very first evolved people of our kind created a huge magnet called society to keep their descendants under control.

With this disturbing thought in mind, I can tell you that knowing something like that is not known or felt by visiting a poor country or seeing the pyramids or Niagara falls.

...the train of thought has disappeared. I have no idea if it made sense. Whatever, I'm doing this blog for me...but if I post this on internet, you might all see.
...you see, there it is again.

Now you just ponder about that thought when you're sitting comfortably in your warm and cosy living room, while the rest of the world is busy surviving.

The cure for insomnia.

Woaaaah it's late. I should be sleeping, seeing as I have to wake up in 3 hours.
Well, I've proven to myself before that this blog can be the cure for my insomnia, so here goes:

Here's just a few thoughts that came to me. I can't be fucked to put them into articles or poems or whatever. I just hope they make sense outside my head. Cuz they sure as hell made sense when I thought of them while gazing at the world and all the parasites it contains.

- The adolescent dilemma is that the teenager's social entourage will push him one way, whilst his parents and family will push him the other. He is then forced to feel rejected by at least one of them.

- The original, natural world is in essence: unfair. So why do we humans try to make ours as fair as possible whilst not tolerating anything unnatural?

- I fear to lose close people so much now as a teenager, that when I see adults dealing with their acquaintences not very often, saying absent-mindedly that "people just get on with their lives", I really think the world is ugly.

- The trend of being deep and meaningful is getting popular now. The uncontrolable, filthy, stupid masses are going to overshadow the people who are really deep soon...thank you society.

- People with power have the power to not care. They also have the power to care, but that's a higher ledge to reach for.

- Come on, let's be honest. We all have to stand naked at least once in our lives (I'm not saying you should imagine the Queen of England naked, please).

Just consider all of that. We should all just go intoxicate ourselves together. We'd all be stoned, but at least we wouldn't hate each other.
That just did it.
See you tomorrow for another frightful day.

Ice on the thorn.

I think I should just let go. It's summer. All the kids are playing. All the adults are dancing. The summer time is supposed to be the happiest period of the year, where we can crawl out of our dens and let the scarlet evening skies ravish us. The powerful sun dominates us and provides us with endless pleasure.
I don't find it that way. Summer is the most depressing time of the year. By far.

It isn't cosy. People are separated, enjoying their time by themselves with the sun, instead of roasting together upon an open fire.

At least during the year the routine will keep us tied together, and we can enjoy our time since we are anchored to the same boat. Now I am drifting too far towards the edge of the earth on a fragile raft.

I've been having trouble sleeping. The heat maybe, or maybe it's just that thought. Everyone's in a great mood around me, but I've never felt so alone.
There's nothing as comforting as a set of smooth words joined together, so let's have ourselves a little poem:

Sleep Debt

Days are all the same
All different, yet still lame
I’m the catch of the day
As I live my time away
The system’s perfectly aligned
With all exceptions resigned
And I am never tired
With being forever admired.

Days are getting longer
Nothing is making me stronger
I drift towards my soul’s boundaries
But the old me is still not deceased
The exceptions come in to play
With a hint of the system still in the way
But now am I so tired
That I want to retire?

Days never end
Solitude is my best friend
I’ve accumulated idleness
And filled my life with emptiness
The system’s safety is gone
I am the exception, not hanging on
I’m tired, my straits are very dire
And my conscience is on fire.

Maybe I must dig so deep to find what I really seek,
But first I must get some sleep, before my view becomes oblique.

A thousand vacancies.

What would happen if everything was stripped off of you. Your job, your studies, your friends, your family, your hobbies, your heart, your head...but not your soul.
Could you cope?
Would you be capable of facing the ravine you were born with, that you never used or even considered?
What the fuck would you do with it?

Since it's all that you have left, take a look...

Once you saw the greyness and shallowness of the soul you kept for so long in the dark, would you regret insulting your best friend, rejecting your father, or saying those horrible things to your mother?
Would you regret leaving the girl or guy you once could donate your entire life to?

Would you think back to the crossroads you once stalled upon, and regret taking the one that led you to the emptiness of the moment you were going through?

I've seen emptiness. A canyon filled with lives made up of vacancies.
And I'm still sane.

Life protects you from facing the gorge that disembowls your inner warmth. Whatever is hidden in your soul, that baby that still lives inside, screaming for attention, is flunked by all the social conventions and desires of power everyone of us follows and craves.

Thinking about it, I can say I'm starting to see more and more of nothing.
As summer approaches again, and soon I will be left without the structure and the routine I'm strapped to now, I realise how weak we all are.

I'm happy at the moment. People are surrounding me in every direction. I'm part of the audience. I'm in there.

Soon, with no school, and no friends close-by, and that dreadful word that separates you from your usual life ("holiday"), I will witness the inevitable, grinding feeling of emptiness inside.

While everyone is enjoying hot summer, I'll still be here. On holiday, sure, but everything will have disappeared. I'll think too much, and start regretting.

Everyone sees summer as the happy season, where everything is fine. I think it's the most depressing time of the year.
When I'm left at home, inbetween a holiday, with all my friends and my family out there, enjoying it, I feel like I'm missing out. Everything good, bright, fun and enjoyable is happening somewhere else.

It's unbearable.

I hate reconsidering my life. It drives me closer to cancelling out everything good just in the hope of making it better. I'm just so happy with what I have now, that I don't want a divide like summer to come, break it up, and ruin it.
But it's inevitable. Maybe it will turn out OK, but there's still a maybe.

I love everything I have now, but I'm on the edge of crossroads, and if I stall, I'll end up taking the wrong path...and it will lead me even further down the path I am trying to get away from now: the path to moments of emptiness.

Moments where you can't help but think about all the things that you've done, all the things you could have done, all the things that must be done, and all the things left out of the audience.
Moments where you feel small.
Moments like this.

Back again with some words to feed you.

So here I am back at square one. Well no, it's more like square minus 547596546541. At the moment, my life is a soothing gondola ride. I'm not searching for that missing piece right now, even though it's still missing.
I was when I wrote that article about the inert around 3 weeks ago.

But right now, as I see the end of another school year approach, and as I feel summer come back to life, I still see grey. I'm not depressed, but after spending time with other people and joking around, I still come home and put a few ideas on paper (less dramatically on word documents).

I'm trying to write new articles, to put up on this site anything that comes to mind, but like before, everything comes easier in poem form.

And so a poem was born out of the grey I see.

I write a lot, articles, songs, poems...the lot! I don't share much of it. I share some of my songs with my band mates, and, if we're lucky, it becomes part of our musical catalogue.
But apart from that, I like to keep my ideas for myself...and for all you faceless, anonymous beings that are reading these very words and the many thousand words I have written before.

I feel like sharing this poem because I didn't think about it while writing it. It just came pouring out. It was only after re-reading it days later, that I became proud of it.
It's pretty vague to be honest. I'm not the kind of poet that expresses a distinct feeling or experience.
That's too easy.

I prefer writing down words that go with what I'm feeling, and then let the reader interpret it to go with what he is feeling.

And remember, this isn't the product of a depression. I'm a happy person. I love my family and all my friends. This is just something that crossed my wild mind, and that I want to share with you.

So here it is:

Common Existence

I feel the stone in my soul, the shouting doesn’t stop
Twilight shines on rotten roses as rough hands die
Will they communicate, find what’s wrong? I think not
But I can see the strings controlling the puppets,
From where I lie.

Cleansing something that won’t be admitted strikes me
As full moon fever keeps me aware of the pain
Standing up costs faith for the prey, but I won’t flee
But laws of nature say, even if I try to soothe the sting,
I’ll only leave a stain.

So why try? The wolf has howled and left the mice to die
I will wait ‘til the next full moon to sing my song
Defying the kings and queens, making the aces cry
Black and white will know a steady gradient,
When they realize they’re wrong.

So for now, I stay down, don’t say much, just look sad.
I stay down, let it flame, let it bleed, let it die.
Watch them whine, drown the sound, let them bite, I stay down.
A common existence, I’d shut it down, if I could
But I stay down, keep cover on the floor, I stay down.

The leaders, the inert, and the free.

We all dream of something blissful. The complete height of whatever you're looking for. Whatever seems to matter. Whatever you want to matter to you. We all dream of becoming one with your passion, in what you believe in most.

Music can do that for example.
And no, I'm not talking about all the shit that's played over the mainstream radio. The simplicity of radio songs is sickening.
The average human being, I'm sorry to say, will not have a passion. Will not believe in something deep. He'll see the world in black and white. He won't see the truth: that everything is grey. He won't know that only you can spread your colour over it. "Good", "bad", "evil", "nice" are purely relative phrases meant to turn life in to a tally chart.
But life isn't a simple choice between right and wrong.

Simple people are too numerous. They're the ones who will listen to music that doesn't deserve to be music, like Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kesha and other bullshit. That's not music. It's not from the heart. They don't live for it. They live with it. They gather their money, puke every night after Vodka number 59.

Rock isn't like that.
Rap isn't like that.
Rock is a spiritual, passionate, musical masterpiece. When you rock out to bands with passionate lyrics. You become one with what you crave, and it's not a naïve song that can give you that. No. Rock dwells deeper in the absurdity and sadness of human nature. It dwells in all those fucked up things that traverse your head, except for they express it with beautiful music.
Some lyrics of rock songs are so deep that they make tears well in your eyes. The truthfulness and reality in them is striking. They unplug you from the matrix of radio/party songs. People have lived for rock. People have written all the crazy experiences they've gone through. The anger. The pain. The grief, but also the happiness. And they have put it into something beautiful, although it can be aggressive, but still beautiful.

Listening to bands that sing from the heart (I won't list any because there are too many) deserve to be listened to. It doesn't compare to the mainstream, ignorant crap that's played to the mainstream, close minded population.

Rap plays the same role as rock. It expresses all the pain and anger gone through an individual, and it's put into rhyming poems that are stringed into a rhythmic, intense, musical voyage. And I'm not talking about Top 40 rap. Fuck that. I'm talking about real rap, just like real rock, from the heart.

I praise that music. It fills me. Keeps me up when I'm feeling down, and down when I'm feeling up. It keeps me balanced.

Because life is all about balance.

Depression will hardly get anyone anywhere, but light-heartedness is just as unhealthy. The unwavering knowledge of being on earth, trying to find a sense of purpose through all forms of art, is what truly matters. That is what truly defines a mature being.

It's a never ending chase with purpose. We will never seize our sense of purpose. If we did, we could all just drift away in meaningless crap, and be happy for nothing.
But since our sense of purpose is unatainable, the people who flee in front of that chase, will drift too far into crap, in complete inertia.

It's a shame that so many people are stupid. But if everyone was chasing a sense of purpose, then we would have found it, and we could all live happily ever after...or more like happily never after.

People will try to escape the chase with purpose with religion and other spiritual rituals. It's cowardly, since the people at the head of those spiritual compounds are bastardly enough to take advantage of them.
In fact, everyone is being used. Used by the uncontrolable need of staying with the closed cluster that is the mainstream. Used by the need of escaping the unquestionable truth. It's easy.
Only the people who have passion are free.

(As a side note, I just realised I could also be conditioned into telling you this. But at least I was conditioned meaningfully and truthfully.)

Everything easy is meaningless. That's why we chase our sense of purpose...endlessly.
Only the people who truly see the thousand shades of grey, and not black and white, are the real people here. They can think on their own. They know what living means. Trying to grab at every spot of happiness, while keeping a track on infinite perception and purpose.

Too many people aren't like that. They'll use the stupid argument that it isn't simple. Rock and rap aren't simple, but they're meaningful. Meaning is hard to admit..hard to grasp, but it's the start on the path to purpose. It's the beginning of the journey you must take to discover your true essence. The fuel that keeps you going in this world. Your sense of purpose. And it's not by making a trip to spiritually and religiously symbolic places that you will find meaning and purpose.

It's by going to places where free people have been, and have made a difference.
Or even better, going where no one else has been before.

Meaning is hard to find.

People have gone mad trying to find their true purpose. Religion only helps to blind other people from that. Politics accomplish that same diabolical mission. All these "easy" life conditioners leave most of the globe inhabitants motionless, used, and left to drift into infinite inertia.