I have found the love of reading again.  I used to read when I was young and I really liked it because I didn’t have to talk to people and they hardly ever bothered me because it was an unsaid rule, to not bother someone who is reading.  I would be reading a book and my mind would transport me into the world and it would consume me at every step and second of my day.  I loved it so much I began to write my own worlds and characters.  At some point I stopped…

My life started getting more social, the truth is simple, I hungered for human interaction. People will say they like to be alone but that doesn’t really last.  We all are social creatures, we need each other at some level.  In the process of being social I lost myself in the shuffle, I didn’t have much self-worth and early on decided that I couldn’t be me, I had to take on other people’s attributes to feel wanted and needed. 

I really never liked being with people for long periods of time and I just recently realized why.

Humans say a lot of stupid shit.

Don’t get me wrong I have said my share of some really absurd and moronic things, mostly to get attention but most of the time it was because I was not in the right ” frame of mind”.  I also did very questionable things to myself.  This was all in the name of trying to feel accepted.  I became fairly popular.  I realized one morning as I tried to remember the “night before”, that those people I idolized were actually using me for their own amusement and so I decided to be by myself again.

I also got  very bored with conversations I was having.  You know what I’m talking about, the “chit chat”, whoever came up with that concept should be tortured with endless pointless talking.  I remember talking to a friend once and I couldn’t remember what they had said for the last 20 minutes because I had gone off on my own conversation in my head.  I laugh everytime there is that scene in a movie where the character starts to narrate as the other character keeps talking, I know how that feels. 

I have even gone to the point of imagining some massive tragedy occuring right in front of us or to us and how would I react.  I was on the street car and I started looking around and imagining the st. car tipping over and everyone screaming. I would act by trying to save people and I pictured the mean people, (I pre-judged them when they boarded the car.), steppeing on the less fortunate and I yelled at them for being inconsiderate.  This boredom started when I was very young.  My first exaggeration was said in grade 3 at school.

“My mom works at McDonalds and my Dad is in jail.”

The truth was so boring!!  My mother was a secretary and my father worked at a bank.  They worked long hours and sacrificed so much and always made ends meet and got through every struggle.  See? Boring, right?

I also began to write stories where the world was ending and life became a dangerous proposition.  How was I going to find food?  I also made all the nice people go through a lot of pain and most of them died after 2 pages.  The only people left were me and the girl I had a crush on at the time.  Struggles fascinate me.  It truly is amazing how much pain humans go through just to get a sliver of happiness.  I  would always do things the hard way. I would remind myself of the easy way and consciously pick the hard way.  Later I understood why, it wasn’t out of some deep need to understand humanity, I wanted an easy out.  I wanted the opportunity to tell people, see I tried and I couldn’t do it, but I tried.

“Do or do not, there is no try.”- Yoda

I am so hungry.  I constantly am trying to find ideas and opinions that challenge me.  People have become so predictable. There is always only 2 sides to a conversation: Left or Right, Liberal or Conservative, Light or Dark. BORING!!

There is always 3 sides to a story, yours, mine and then the truth.

You see, life is just an opinion, most of the time it’s based on a way we perceive things. Perception is not based on fact or truth.

Fact: People die.

My opinion on death though will be different then yours.  I see death as a transition, most people see it as a finality.  I really enjoy watching people trying to deal with death, they, majority of them anyway, act selfishly.  The crying and wailing, I mean, come on, it’s just for attention.  I understand you miss them and that connection is lost now, it hurts, I have felt that hurt.  I also make a conscious decision to remind myself of the happy memories I had with that person.  If you hurt because that person is gone, why intensify that hurt with thinking about the loss?  Remember the moments that the 2 of you laughed and went on that road trip or sat up all night and told each other that one secret that , you realize now, no one else knows.  How lucky were you to have that person in your life?  That bond you shared will live on with you.  So why do people cry and cry?  Selfish. They spent all the time when the person was alive not appreciating having them in their lives, that now, when they are gone, they regret not telling them all that they wanted to tell them. Regret, the single most useless emotion of the human existence. I should know, I regret quite a lot.

I just want someone to challenge me.  I want someone to make me question all that I believe and think.  Not try to change my thinking and my belief, just question it.  I’m starving for a passionate debate. I’m dieing a slow death.  I’m dieing of Mental Starvation.