Remember

I couldn’t think of anything to write these days. Probably because these days were rather uneventful. I figured I’d share a bit of advice I have trouble reminding myself of at times.

Whenever you find yourself with something that makes you sad or angry or worried, always remember that being sad or angry or worried about it is always worse than whatever you’re sad or angry or worried about. Though these emotions are not productive or even counter-productive at times, and even though I have these feelings myself at times, one should realise this. Even if this sounds like something you’ve figured ages ago, it’s the kind of thing that you’ll always forget at the very moment you start feeling sad or angry or worried. This is why I feel I cannot stress this enough.

Never let such feelings overwhelm you and always remember that they make the very situation that bothers you even worse. Never let such feelings overwhelm you and even if they do, never let them overwhelm you for long. After all, they’re rather human feelings, and who are we to deny us of what makes us human?

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4:00

There’s nothing like the silence of 4 o’clock. The cool breeze in your face when opening the window, the warmth of the room behind you. Nothing but the faint sound of cars driving far in the distance and the sound of church bells somewhere ringing in the fourth hour. A feeling of solitude in a seemingly infinite void. Walking in the middle of the street with your eyes closed without a care, thinking of everything and anything but the people sleeping around you.

It’s a wonderful feeling.

It’s after a while one starts wishing one could always live in this sanctuary of sanity, remote of all the complexities in life. As one’s heart beats slower and the air gets seemingly fresher with every breath, one also wonders why we let things get to us the way they do. We’re annoyed or worried about things to the point where the slightest chores of daily life is met with anguish.

I’ve long managed to let out my dissatisfaction with minor events in short bursts since I’ve come to realise that both sadness and anger tend to be useless emotions that never remedy what I’m really sad or angry about. In recent years it’s come to the point where I’ve stopped crying over a deceased love one at a funeral and found myself worried that I may be perceived as a heartless bastard. The irony thereof hasn’t escaped me either.

I’ve wondered why I let things bother me because certain things still do. I still follow world politics even though I hate politics, I’m still a proud member of Amnesty International, I still wish children and adults around the world in developing and developed nations alike would get the education they deserve, I still moderate the chat rooms and forums of deviantART despite the plethora of adolescent fucktards that seem to spawn more often than twitchy pill-popping Rambo-style assholes in a game of… well, any online multi-player shooter that’s still played these days, really. Things still get to me and that’s despite my mellow laid-back Caribbean attitude.

The rants and expressions like these on this blog are mostly so I can let it all out, but it’s also because I know there’s at least one person out there listening… reading. There’s always someone who wants to absorb this psychological refuse and I’m partly thankful for that. Much of who I am is for the entertainment and pleasure of others and the sake of my own. I have but my singularities to entertain myself and I’d die if I had to live off of those alone, which is why it’s good that I don’t and never will. I’d rather fellate the barrel of a loaded gun than adapt to the hermitic lifestyle of the recluse and atrocious.

It’s probably a good thing then that the feeling of being alone in a seemingly infinite void lasts as long as your eyes are closed. A blissful feeling it is, but like most things it never lasts, nor should it. I thrive on the spice of life. I’m addicted to it. I’d grow it, cook it, eat it, smoke it, snort it, drink it, infuse it, rub it, suck it, lick it and do a number of absurdly obscene things to it if I could, if not all the things listed in Daft Punk’s Technologic.

Change. Bless its heart.

Solitude. I never want to feel that again. Not until I want to feel it again. Hell, call me fickle. I’d take it as a compliment. Now gimme a kiss.

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