Everyone has his taste, his poison... some have more than one, but those are the exotic ones, the ones that crave spice, the elusive variety, everything life has to offer. Everyone's entitled to his poison.
I've never understood people having to justify themselves to me. Granted, my tone s severe when the topic veers towards vice, of any degree, and especially the one that allows escapism. To do what you please and blame it on something else, retreat into the shadow of a harmless, inanimate thing which picks up the flak for all that you do. Alcohol is so bad! Too bad he's come under the influence.
Anything you do, do it bravely. It's your life... its yours to live. The only time you know you shouldn't be doing something, is when you know you cant look yourself in the eye and say it.
Or, close enough, when you can't look a friend in the eye and tell him.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
A thought...
Isn't it simpler to lead life for yourself, rather than for another, and expect reciprocation?
That I am opposed to interference is no new thing. Every person has a life to lead, a set of principles to live them by, and some small, perhaps whimsical goals in mind. Yet ever so often, we lose these goals to rectified thought, born from the factories of education, and the suffocating comfort of belief.
Children do not reason. They do not research nor plan. Children do not lead a life, they live it. Adults grow up, and forget the sound of their own voice, drowned under an incessant storm of expectation. Adults reason, they live. Children dream.
What use is a life without a dream? Will you, ten, twenty or thirty years down the line, sit up in bed one day, as a childhood dream comes back to you? Will your world then seem unfamiliar, strange, almost manufactured? Will you feel like you're leading another person's life? And maybe in the midst of all that, you will hear a small, accusing voice that asks you where its dream went...
When I was a child, I had a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look, but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child has grown
The dream is gone
Wouldn't you rather risk being a child a few years longer, than lose your dream in the hurry to grow up, to please, and to be accepted? Just a thought...
That I am opposed to interference is no new thing. Every person has a life to lead, a set of principles to live them by, and some small, perhaps whimsical goals in mind. Yet ever so often, we lose these goals to rectified thought, born from the factories of education, and the suffocating comfort of belief.
Children do not reason. They do not research nor plan. Children do not lead a life, they live it. Adults grow up, and forget the sound of their own voice, drowned under an incessant storm of expectation. Adults reason, they live. Children dream.
What use is a life without a dream? Will you, ten, twenty or thirty years down the line, sit up in bed one day, as a childhood dream comes back to you? Will your world then seem unfamiliar, strange, almost manufactured? Will you feel like you're leading another person's life? And maybe in the midst of all that, you will hear a small, accusing voice that asks you where its dream went...
When I was a child, I had a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look, but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child has grown
The dream is gone
Wouldn't you rather risk being a child a few years longer, than lose your dream in the hurry to grow up, to please, and to be accepted? Just a thought...
And then there were none...
One by one
They filtered out
Duty called, Time pressed, and Life retreat'd
One by one they left
And then there was one
He smiled
For in leaving
They left loneliness behind and its touch
Was friendlier, he felt
It carried no lie, no spite
Wings unfurled
Time flew past, and he
His dear friend spent their nights together
Till higher company called
But yet then there was one.
Loneliness
Sighed, stood, his black
Cape billowed in the wind now, yet he
Walked on uncaring, unyeilding
And then there were none
They filtered out
Duty called, Time pressed, and Life retreat'd
One by one they left
And then there was one
He smiled
For in leaving
They left loneliness behind and its touch
Was friendlier, he felt
It carried no lie, no spite
Wings unfurled
Time flew past, and he
His dear friend spent their nights together
Till higher company called
But yet then there was one.
Loneliness
Sighed, stood, his black
Cape billowed in the wind now, yet he
Walked on uncaring, unyeilding
And then there were none
Friday, October 16, 2009
That awful feeling...
*incohence warning*
In some truly bizzare contradiction of relative velocity, I find that the more the world around me grows older, the older I get.
Mischief and noise are the guardians of childhood, quiescence is the forebearer of adolescence, while responsibility wrestles with youth, and selfishness consumes adulthood.
So it is, the rule of this world, and indubitably that of many others, where squishy green aliens with antennas probably gather in a small hall and face distinct directions.
Sadly, however young ou may be at heart, you will know youth has given up on yo when you look up at the night sky before Diwali, and see only light, nothin mroe.
In some truly bizzare contradiction of relative velocity, I find that the more the world around me grows older, the older I get.
Mischief and noise are the guardians of childhood, quiescence is the forebearer of adolescence, while responsibility wrestles with youth, and selfishness consumes adulthood.
So it is, the rule of this world, and indubitably that of many others, where squishy green aliens with antennas probably gather in a small hall and face distinct directions.
Sadly, however young ou may be at heart, you will know youth has given up on yo when you look up at the night sky before Diwali, and see only light, nothin mroe.
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