Fu k the desire to be fulfilled.

​You see a self help peaceful enlighteninh knowledge source for some condition you believe you have that you also believe is bad when you see the ad of this self help.peaceful enlightening knowledge source for some condition you believe you have that you also believe is bad. What you do is fund the campaign, the cause, the research, the book, the speech or whatever shit it maybe, join in, and fund this. Then this campaign, the cause, the research, the book, the speech or whatever sjit is maybe gets big and so does the campaigns, the cause, the researchers, the authors, and all the megalomaniacs associated with it. Now again, you fund the campaign hoping that you’d be happy if you took that self help peaceful enlightening knowledge source for some condition that you believe is bad for you that will help you reach the fuck yes level of the campaigns, the cause, the researchers, the authors, and all the megalomaniacs and be happy. The cycle goes on. Why? Because happy person doesn’t desire to be happy and content, he/she just is. He/she doesn’t spend his life hours to work better to look better. He/she is a real booty call just like that. 

2 posts. 2 f-ckin posts.

Well, let us see… Where do we start from. Got two things to write down and I will separate them in paragraphs.

I am not a very good speaker or writer and I mostly mess up more than half of the things I would want to say. It is like I yell out the words I want to say but somehow it is not even audible to . I have always been told that communication is very important but I think more important is the precise way to communicate. Otherwise words are just words, rhymes are rhymed, songs are melodies and descriptions is just d-e-s-c-r-i-p-t-i-o-n-s. I am not writing this to reach out and make anyone feel like something or anything. My posts are hardly reached out and I, in a way am talking to myself here. But, it does give me a satisfaction to let the words out even for a blog… Just get it out.

Did you ever stand at a traffic light, waiting for your turn to go, and noticed individuality? It is magical. Surreal. Unexplainable, that we are not everything, but we are everything. Everyone and a everything. Some of us spend their whole life drinking and thinking about missed opportunities and missed someone’s, some of us spend stand at the signal selling things ranging from peanuts to their divinity, but have you ever glanced to the little boy by your side, waiting, just like you, for his turn, to go home, be a hero of his movie he learned to call life? The maid who crossed the signal with you is thinking about how she is going to pay the bills if she keeps getting fired for being late, the old man with his lady asks you for a hand because their children are working their ass off to support their child and their parents’, the police is continuoisly convincing himself he must hold his post to maintain order to help you reach home safe, and you are looking at this life in motion where everyone is a hero, every one matters, every one must get hurt, every one must feel pain, every one must be lost, to be found, by themselves, to be loved by themselves, to be cared for by every one. This is my message to humanity. Every one is a hero.