Haven't wrote for a whole month, I know. But this is so hard to write...

I guess I've been too scared. Too scared to stop and look. To really see myself and all I've done. Not because I feel I won't like it. It's just that stopping makes everything and everyone wait. Makes them all wait for me to take action and I just want to stop for a while. But stopping means thinking. It makes me realize that I have little time. In other words, I'm screwed.
Life’s a one way road. You can drive, because that’s what you’d normally do on a road, run, or fly. Either way, you’re going to get to the end of the road someday. And while you’re at it (the living and not thinking about death thing) you can’t turn back, only with your mind. But is that really a problem? I don’t think I want to be a kid again. Sure it was good while it lasted but I want to live the rest of my life just as everybody else. From what I’ve seen, it is a hell of a ride. So what is it? What was it? What kept me from writing? It’s being kind of hard to pull the words out of my head right now and I didn’t even have the guts to stare at my beautiful black blog for more than a minute, this last month. And when I started writing this post, I thought it was going to be all darkish and “emoish”. Is it? Not the last part, right? I can’t believe I’m actually asking you something I don’t have an answer for. Guess that spoils the text a bit. But I mean, it was already ruined with the “Life’s a one way road”. When did I get so poetic? (now I do have an answer) That’s what listening to Pearl Jam does to you. CD in, next song times four, play. There we go: “Hey Foxymophandlemama, That's Me”. Not so poetic this time. Just genius. Should we enjoy pain as we enjoy sex? Should we see the inducing of pain as a sample of love? That’s another story. Music has too much influence in my writing; I can’t even remember what I was writing about at the beginning of this post. Does it even matter? As long as you have something to think about after you read it, it’s fine.
There, think away, you’re free to do it. And remember, don’t ever judge a cat’s sanity. We all think outside the box. But also keep this in mind: there are some things you can’t see or understand. And we do.

Sincerely mine,

The Cat


(first ever signed post because I don’t like to sign. Couldn’t let the paradoxal me fade away)

Happiness Denied. Try again.

"WE're all trapped with what we've got, free with what we have to use. We're free! And that gives us the possibility to be happy" - Somebody said this and somebody lied. At least that's my opinion. How can someone be happy in poverty? How CAN someone survive extreme misery, the same misery that we, humans gave 'em, our brothers and sisters?

Let's start a revolution people, c'mon! And don't tell me it's too late, don't tell me it's too hard. It's hard for the people suffering and whose rights are being completely ignored. Not for you. It will BE hard for you and maybe that's what it takes to make people act. Because we don't act out of compassion, but we'll surely act under suffering and fear. And that's just embarrassing.

I said the first quote. I denied it and argued against it. And now I say it can be done, that it is true: everyone can be happy.

The thing is that not everybody wants you to be HAPPY.