Today I'm feeling strangely happy, like a white veil finally covering my mind that brings light and peace to mi mind.
The feeling is quite unusual to me an I haven't felt this way in a really long time.
In any case, I would like to tank all the people that have come across my life and I remember at this moment, that one way or another brought joy to mi life (for privacy reasons I won't write down the complete names but their initials) ECS, NBR, CT, NM, MK, GB, JY, LV, AT, MG, DJBD, SA, AL.
Most of them should be able to recognise their initials, and would know I refer to them.
My most sincere thanks to all of them, for being there, one way or another, as my wife, my friend, or just a simple memory. You all mean something to me, and I will for ever be n debt with you for being who you are.
Changing the subject slightly, this new found feeling might be the result of my meditation session from last night, finally I resumed them.
In any case, I'm happy, sue me if this disturbs you.
Live long and prosper.... Peace and love fuckers!!
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
Test post
This is a simple post to see how the fuck works an app i just fdownloaded for my device. We'll se.
Done.
Done.
Love - 1/2
Do you remember your first love? that impossible love that you were never able to confess? that love that kept you up endless nights? you sure do, we all do, no matter how much time passes on.
How much time has passed since then?
Look at that love, and think of it, was it really love? or just a juvenile crush?
My story is something like this. Somewhere around seventeen years back, this girl started attending the school I went to, she wasn't the kind of girl that caught your attention, by far (for that age I mean, I'm not a fucking pedophile) One day as we were sitting in class, with nothing to do since our teacher hadn't showed up, she started asking everyone who they liked, all the boys rooted for the same three girls, and all the girls rooted for the same three boys. As always, I tried to keep my self away from that kind of conversations, but eventually she looked at me and asked me who I liked. I really don't know why, but it might have been a way to end the conversation in the fastest way, or maybe because I fell bad for her that every time that she asked a boy who they liked she was never mentioned, but I told her that I liked her.
As expected the conversation ended as fast as it could an an awkward silence arouse within the four walls of the class room. I was happy with the way things had evolved and no one tried to bring up that subject for a long time. In any case we turned out to be really good friends, and she is one of the few school mates I still talk with.
In any case, no one asked about my likes and dislikes regarding women for quite a long time.
Five years later I was at class (same class mates) and at that time I had a silver ankh on my neck, and I had it on my mouth when all of the sudden I cut myself with it, by accident obviously. Tat happened because the most gorgeous girl I had ever laid my eyes on walked through the hallway. She was a new student, a year younger than me. At that point in time I thought, that's it this is love, and all that crap that comes together with the first love. For the following two years I was completely in love with her, and was never able to tell her so. I was never one of the sportsmen of my class, quite the opposite, even though at that point in time I wasn't fat, my activities at school were the choir, art, physics, maths, literature, and so on; and let's be honest at that time women prefer the sport guys over the nerd ones (they always do) In any case, one thing or the other kept me from saying what I felt at that time, obviously she already knew since all my class mates used to that to piss me off, but I never told her. In any case, the thing is that for the following two years she was kind of my everything.
Finally I started the university, and my social group switched, and never saw her again, maybe in one or two parties, but not seeing her on a daily basis made me forget my love for her quite quickly. More than ten years have gone by since the last time I saw her, and thinking back, I never loved her, not a bit, I simply thought she was really gorgeous girl. How do I know this? I'm married now, and the feelings I have for my wife are a universe apart from the ones I had for her or any one else before.
This takes me to the subject I was trying to address: love.
Love is feeling that must be worked on, it takes time and effort, is not something magical that appears one day and might be gone the next one, the phrase some people use "the love was over" is a really stupid comment, the love is not over, the strength to work on that love is over, the strength to oversee the defect of your couple, the strength to be with her whenever the thing go to hell. Love doesn't mean flower fields rainbows and butterflies (that would actually be hell for me, but that's me) Love is a work, that requires all the effort in the world. Eventually you will be willing to sacrifice everything for that love, even your own life.
So to whoever tires to tell me that love is a great feeling that might come and go, I tell you go to hell.
If you are one of that kind of person that whenever is mad at your couple, stops answering to the "I love you" comment, than you should go back and analyze your feelings.
In any case, now that we have established that love is a pain in the ass, and no matter our age we'll always have issues with it, I ask you, what wold be of us if there was no love?
Think of it an whenever I feel like writing again I'll give you my opinion.
How much time has passed since then?
Look at that love, and think of it, was it really love? or just a juvenile crush?
My story is something like this. Somewhere around seventeen years back, this girl started attending the school I went to, she wasn't the kind of girl that caught your attention, by far (for that age I mean, I'm not a fucking pedophile) One day as we were sitting in class, with nothing to do since our teacher hadn't showed up, she started asking everyone who they liked, all the boys rooted for the same three girls, and all the girls rooted for the same three boys. As always, I tried to keep my self away from that kind of conversations, but eventually she looked at me and asked me who I liked. I really don't know why, but it might have been a way to end the conversation in the fastest way, or maybe because I fell bad for her that every time that she asked a boy who they liked she was never mentioned, but I told her that I liked her.
As expected the conversation ended as fast as it could an an awkward silence arouse within the four walls of the class room. I was happy with the way things had evolved and no one tried to bring up that subject for a long time. In any case we turned out to be really good friends, and she is one of the few school mates I still talk with.
In any case, no one asked about my likes and dislikes regarding women for quite a long time.
Five years later I was at class (same class mates) and at that time I had a silver ankh on my neck, and I had it on my mouth when all of the sudden I cut myself with it, by accident obviously. Tat happened because the most gorgeous girl I had ever laid my eyes on walked through the hallway. She was a new student, a year younger than me. At that point in time I thought, that's it this is love, and all that crap that comes together with the first love. For the following two years I was completely in love with her, and was never able to tell her so. I was never one of the sportsmen of my class, quite the opposite, even though at that point in time I wasn't fat, my activities at school were the choir, art, physics, maths, literature, and so on; and let's be honest at that time women prefer the sport guys over the nerd ones (they always do) In any case, one thing or the other kept me from saying what I felt at that time, obviously she already knew since all my class mates used to that to piss me off, but I never told her. In any case, the thing is that for the following two years she was kind of my everything.
Finally I started the university, and my social group switched, and never saw her again, maybe in one or two parties, but not seeing her on a daily basis made me forget my love for her quite quickly. More than ten years have gone by since the last time I saw her, and thinking back, I never loved her, not a bit, I simply thought she was really gorgeous girl. How do I know this? I'm married now, and the feelings I have for my wife are a universe apart from the ones I had for her or any one else before.
This takes me to the subject I was trying to address: love.
Love is feeling that must be worked on, it takes time and effort, is not something magical that appears one day and might be gone the next one, the phrase some people use "the love was over" is a really stupid comment, the love is not over, the strength to work on that love is over, the strength to oversee the defect of your couple, the strength to be with her whenever the thing go to hell. Love doesn't mean flower fields rainbows and butterflies (that would actually be hell for me, but that's me) Love is a work, that requires all the effort in the world. Eventually you will be willing to sacrifice everything for that love, even your own life.
So to whoever tires to tell me that love is a great feeling that might come and go, I tell you go to hell.
If you are one of that kind of person that whenever is mad at your couple, stops answering to the "I love you" comment, than you should go back and analyze your feelings.
In any case, now that we have established that love is a pain in the ass, and no matter our age we'll always have issues with it, I ask you, what wold be of us if there was no love?
Think of it an whenever I feel like writing again I'll give you my opinion.
Monday, 3 January 2011
Small
The day I met you I was amazed by your beauty.
The day I kissed you for the first time I felt like flying.
The day I asked you to marry me I was on the stars.
The day we got married was the happiest day of my life.
Every morning when I look into your eyes i feel....
everything again.
The day I kissed you for the first time I felt like flying.
The day I asked you to marry me I was on the stars.
The day we got married was the happiest day of my life.
Every morning when I look into your eyes i feel....
everything again.
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Explaining
Before all I would like to thank the anonymous that left a response to my previous post, but even though I'm thankful for the words of compassion there is something that you missed, or probably misinterpreted.
I'm 28, male, and married; if for some reason I write as if I were a 16 year old kid with suffering from depression it's just a small story through which I'm trying to make a point. I know that the depression can be considered a sickness if there is no real reason for it, and there are medications for it. The emo kids are just another urban tribe that try to make their place in the world by showing who knows what, sadness? sadness for what I ask my self. I really don't understand them.
If you ask me if there was a time in my life when I thought about suicide, the answer would be yes, I have no problem admitting it. Almost 15 years ago I was going through an emotional crisis, classic teenage crisis, first love lost, and all that crap, back then I thought that there could be no greater sorrow than that and that I would never be able to over come it, but guess what, I was wrong.
Looking back now from where I stand I can almost lough at that situations, I remember a friend telling me, the best solution for a broken heart, is some Heavy Metal, so we started going to some concerts. Loud music, people jumping, hitting each other and an occasional police run once the show was over. A couple of months later I had forgotten all the pain and suffering that that lady had caused me, and I was ready to move on.
The thing is, suicide is never the answer, but in case that you are really thinking about suicide, go seek professional help. And if you are not even considering the idea, stop acting as if you were as. That's what bothers me about emo kids, they act suicidal, but have no intention on doing so.
It's more than obvious at this point that I had forgotten what I was originally going to write about (this happens to me a lot) but in any case, I'm going to try and explain why all my writing end in some kind of death. or start with a death.
During all our life we wonder why we are here, what are we supposed to do, and don't bring me that "God's divine plan" shit because I don't buy it.
I do believe that on the final moments of our life we are faced to the ultimate truth, a moment of revelation. A point in which we see where we come from and where we go to. We are to return, sooner or later, to the universe itself, so when we are about to die we can finally see the universe itself, on a whole different level, not as a mere observer, but as an important and vital part of it.
So yes I do consider death as an important part in life, and I really appreciate it, and this is something most people don't do. Why do we enjoy life? why do we love, play, interact with other people? Because in the end we'll die.
If death was optional, then living would be pointless, why should I care what I do, why should I worry about anything if I can't die?
Death same as birth give meaning to our life, and we are what we are thanks to it, so there you are this is the idea I try to show through my stories.
I'm 28, male, and married; if for some reason I write as if I were a 16 year old kid with suffering from depression it's just a small story through which I'm trying to make a point. I know that the depression can be considered a sickness if there is no real reason for it, and there are medications for it. The emo kids are just another urban tribe that try to make their place in the world by showing who knows what, sadness? sadness for what I ask my self. I really don't understand them.
If you ask me if there was a time in my life when I thought about suicide, the answer would be yes, I have no problem admitting it. Almost 15 years ago I was going through an emotional crisis, classic teenage crisis, first love lost, and all that crap, back then I thought that there could be no greater sorrow than that and that I would never be able to over come it, but guess what, I was wrong.
Looking back now from where I stand I can almost lough at that situations, I remember a friend telling me, the best solution for a broken heart, is some Heavy Metal, so we started going to some concerts. Loud music, people jumping, hitting each other and an occasional police run once the show was over. A couple of months later I had forgotten all the pain and suffering that that lady had caused me, and I was ready to move on.
The thing is, suicide is never the answer, but in case that you are really thinking about suicide, go seek professional help. And if you are not even considering the idea, stop acting as if you were as. That's what bothers me about emo kids, they act suicidal, but have no intention on doing so.
It's more than obvious at this point that I had forgotten what I was originally going to write about (this happens to me a lot) but in any case, I'm going to try and explain why all my writing end in some kind of death. or start with a death.
During all our life we wonder why we are here, what are we supposed to do, and don't bring me that "God's divine plan" shit because I don't buy it.
I do believe that on the final moments of our life we are faced to the ultimate truth, a moment of revelation. A point in which we see where we come from and where we go to. We are to return, sooner or later, to the universe itself, so when we are about to die we can finally see the universe itself, on a whole different level, not as a mere observer, but as an important and vital part of it.
So yes I do consider death as an important part in life, and I really appreciate it, and this is something most people don't do. Why do we enjoy life? why do we love, play, interact with other people? Because in the end we'll die.
If death was optional, then living would be pointless, why should I care what I do, why should I worry about anything if I can't die?
Death same as birth give meaning to our life, and we are what we are thanks to it, so there you are this is the idea I try to show through my stories.
Friday, 15 October 2010
Slow
Today I had one of those eternal days at the office, the time felt as if it had decided to stop.
Anyway there was a reason for this post, but I'm unable to remember what it was, so here is a short storie, as always it will be an improvisation and no real thought will be placed into it... let's see what we can come out with.
I'm a 16 year old girl. I come from a loving famly in the suburbia outside one of the major cities in the country I live in. I was born and raised under the catholic creed. I never lacked anything, and have a preaty much acceptable body build. Nothing of this makes up to the feeling of loneliness I feel inside of me, in my soul, I feel alone, always sad and unmotivated. Nothing seems to chear me up, I go through the days as if it was just a dream, I feel I have no place in this world. The only moment I feel alive is when I feel pain, and that's why I cut myself.
I see my blood dripping from my leg, I see all the scars in my leg, and they appear to be unreal.
Every day the same routine, whenever I feel down I hide and cut myself and every day the relief I get from it reduces, I know some day this will meen nothing as well and I'll need to find something new.
Until then I'll continue to drift through life as I;ve been doing so far.
//Author Note - Fucking emos, why on earth am I writing this??? Let us make a quick drift on the speed of the text, that will impact on the speed you reed it.
Walking back home, drifting as always. a homeless asks me for a coin. I tell him no, and I move algong. I feel him walking behind me, closing in, each step I take. A strong hand grips me by the arm, and shoves me towards a wall. My clothes are being torn apart, my womanhood broke, my innocence lost. With closed eyes i star hitting and shouting, I know ther will be no answer.
I beel something cold in the floor at my side, I grab it, and smash it against my agressor. The attack ends, a heavy weight on my laps. I open my eyes, blood running through my legs, a body that doesn't move. With much effort I stand up and try to run.
I can't, everything hurts. I fall. Lights come towards me.... dont they see me? I raise my arm, knowing it's too late.
Done and done, the story is over.
I find it really hard not to kill my main characters, maybie some day one of them will survive to tell another sotry?
That will be all for the day so...... "good night, and good fight!"
Anyway there was a reason for this post, but I'm unable to remember what it was, so here is a short storie, as always it will be an improvisation and no real thought will be placed into it... let's see what we can come out with.
I'm a 16 year old girl. I come from a loving famly in the suburbia outside one of the major cities in the country I live in. I was born and raised under the catholic creed. I never lacked anything, and have a preaty much acceptable body build. Nothing of this makes up to the feeling of loneliness I feel inside of me, in my soul, I feel alone, always sad and unmotivated. Nothing seems to chear me up, I go through the days as if it was just a dream, I feel I have no place in this world. The only moment I feel alive is when I feel pain, and that's why I cut myself.
I see my blood dripping from my leg, I see all the scars in my leg, and they appear to be unreal.
Every day the same routine, whenever I feel down I hide and cut myself and every day the relief I get from it reduces, I know some day this will meen nothing as well and I'll need to find something new.
Until then I'll continue to drift through life as I;ve been doing so far.
//Author Note - Fucking emos, why on earth am I writing this??? Let us make a quick drift on the speed of the text, that will impact on the speed you reed it.
Walking back home, drifting as always. a homeless asks me for a coin. I tell him no, and I move algong. I feel him walking behind me, closing in, each step I take. A strong hand grips me by the arm, and shoves me towards a wall. My clothes are being torn apart, my womanhood broke, my innocence lost. With closed eyes i star hitting and shouting, I know ther will be no answer.
I beel something cold in the floor at my side, I grab it, and smash it against my agressor. The attack ends, a heavy weight on my laps. I open my eyes, blood running through my legs, a body that doesn't move. With much effort I stand up and try to run.
I can't, everything hurts. I fall. Lights come towards me.... dont they see me? I raise my arm, knowing it's too late.
Done and done, the story is over.
I find it really hard not to kill my main characters, maybie some day one of them will survive to tell another sotry?
That will be all for the day so...... "good night, and good fight!"
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Questionable Methods
People always claimed that every now and then my methods were somewhat questionable, well, now, the BlackBerry SDK thinks the same.
I'm not entirely sure how I should feel about this, but, it's actually kind of neat to see how everyone and everything gets the same oppinion about me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)