Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military, where they had been on vacation... everything.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children scailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band- he could see it in his minds eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive language.
Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside the window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and couldn't even see the wall.
She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."


Apathy is good and bad at the same time. It prevents you from being emotionally affected by the world around you, making it easier to keep a distance from those you don't want to get close to. The downside is that those you keep close by your side can hurt you more than you think. You can smile about it, put up a facade, hide the pain, do whatever is necessary, but once you're alone, the hurt surfaces. I'm asking that no matter what, you suck it up and still love them the same way, no matter how deeply they hurt you. Even if they don't care about you, even if you're just a friend, or a shoulder they use to lean on, even with all the cruel jokes they make and insist that it is nothing more than a joke. They can treat you good and treat you bad, call you their brother or their bitch; though it hurts, you must not show it. Your tears will only feed their ego.

I know, I know. Blah blah blah nobody gives a fuck about your broken heart, but you know something? Most days... I'm not even sure what I'm upset about


There's a certain look both guys and girls give each other. It's usually to one specific person. It's kind of like a stare, but the person who's doing the look isn't thinking. He's kinda mesmerised, I suppose. Something about that girl... you know? Innocence, beauty, and your yearn to try and open up her world, show her yours and let her in yours-- try and show her everything you can, and then maybe, just maybe, she'll love you too. But you'll never know.

Personally, I am the place a person falls to when life gets hard. I am the shoulder, the keeper of secrets, the kindness through their pain. I am the wisdom, the knowledge and the prophet when everything goes wrong. I have no idea how it feels to be utterly loved.

walking alone

If I look lonely, that's alright, 'cause I'm the only one left in my life


When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims, religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever 'til the end of time! But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He's all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can't handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more.

Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit! But I want you to know something, this is sincere, I want you to know, when it comes to believing in God, I really tried. I really, really tried. I tried to believe that there is a God, who created each of us in His own image and likeness, loves us very much, and keeps a close eye on things. I really tried to believe that, but I gotta tell you, the longer you live, the more you look around, the more you realize, something is fucked up. Something is wrong here. War, disease, death, destruction, hunger, filth, poverty, torture, crime, corruption, and the Ice Capades. Something is definitely wrong. This is not good work. If this is the best God can do, I am not impressed. Results like these do not belong on the résumé of a Supreme Being. This is the kind of shit you'd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. And just between you and me, in any decently-run universe, this guy would've been out on his all-powerful ass a long time ago. And by the way, I say "this guy", because I firmly believe, looking at these results, that if there is a God, it has to be a man. No woman could or would ever fuck things up like this. So, if there is a God, I think most reasonable people might agree that he's at least incompetent, and maybe, just maybe, doesn't give a shit. Doesn't give a shit, which I admire in a person, and which would explain a lot of these bad results. So rather than be just another mindless religious robot, mindlessly and aimlessly and blindly believing that all of this is in the hands of some spooky incompetent father figure who doesn't give a shit, I decided to look around for something else to worship. Something I could really count on. And immediately, I thought of the sun.

Happened like that. Overnight I became a sun-worshipper. Well, not overnight, you can't see the sun at night. But first thing the next morning, I became a sun-worshipper. Several reasons. First of all, I can see the sun, okay? Unlike some other gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun. I'm big on that. If I can see something, I don't know, it kind of helps the credibility along, you know? So everyday I can see the sun, as it gives me everything I need; heat, light, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake, an occasional skin cancer, but hey. At least there are no crucifixions, and we're not setting people on fire simply because they don't agree with us. Sun worship is fairly simple. There's no mystery, no miracles, no pageantry, no one asks for money, there are no songs to learn, and we don't have a special building where we all gather once a week to compare clothing. And the best thing about the sun, it never tells me I'm unworthy. Doesn't tell me I'm a bad person who needs to be saved. Hasn't said an unkind word. Treats me fine. So, I worship the sun. But, I don't pray to the sun. Know why? I wouldn't presume on our friendship. It's not polite. I've often thought people treat God rather rudely, don't you? Asking trillions and trillions of prayers every day. Asking and pleading and begging for favors. Do this, gimme that, I need a new car, I want a better job. And most of this praying takes place on Sunday His day off. It's not nice. And it's no way to treat a friend. But people do pray, and they pray for a lot of different things, you know, your sister needs an operation on her crotch, your brother was arrested for defecating in a mall. But most of all, you'd really like to fuck that hot little redhead down at the convenience store. You know, the one with the eyepatch and the clubfoot? Can you pray for that? I think you'd have to. And I say, fine. Pray for anything you want. Pray for anything, but what about the Divine Plan? Remember that? The Divine Plan. Long time ago, God made a Divine Plan. Gave it a lot of thought, decided it was a good plan, put it into practice. And for billions and billions of years, the Divine Plan has been doing just fine. Now, you come along, and pray for something. Well suppose the thing you want isn't in God's Divine Plan? What do you want Him to do? Change His plan? Just for you? Doesn't it seem a little arrogant? It's a Divine Plan. What's the use of being God if every run-down shmuck with a two-dollar prayerbook can come along and fuck up Your Plan? And here's something else, another problem you might have: Suppose your prayers aren't answered. What do you say? "Well, it's God's will." "Thy Will Be Done." Fine, but if it's God's will, and He's going to do what He wants to anyway, why the fuck bother praying in the first place? Seems like a big waste of time to me! Couldn't you just skip the praying part and go right to His Will? It's all very confusing. So to get around a lot of this, I decided to worship the sun. But, as I said, I don't pray to the sun. You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci. Two reasons: First of all, I think he's a good actor, okay? To me, that counts. Second, he looks like a guy who can get things done. Joe Pesci doesn't fuck around. In fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having trouble with. For years I asked God to do something about my noisy neighbor with the barking dog, Joe Pesci straightened that cocksucker out with one visit. It's amazing what you can accomplish with a simple baseball bat.

So I've been praying to Joe for about a year now. And I noticed something. I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don't. Same as God, 50-50. Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe, the wishing well and the rabbit's foot, same as the Mojo Man, same as the Voodoo Lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles, it's all the same: 50-50. So just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself. And for those of you who look to The Bible for moral lessons and literary qualities, I might suggest a couple of other stories for you. You might want to look at the Three Little Pigs, that's a good one. Has a nice happy ending, I'm sure you'll like that. Then there's Little Red Riding Hood, although it does have that X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother. Which I didn't care for, by the way. And finally, I've always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from Humpty Dumpty.

Flip a coin

The worst decision I have ever made was indecision. I either made a mistake and learned from it, or did something right and was proud.
I can only offer the advice that my more outgoing side always offers me: "Fuck it"
Shit happens. The sun will still rise in the morning. Don't be afraid of mistakes, be afraid of never getting a second chance. Throw caution to the wind and never look back. The past happened, we're just going to have to live and learn from it.
Go talk to her; go give him a chance. Don't be afraid of who you are. We don't need their approval to be happy

We're our own hero

I don't know you. I don't know a thing about you. I don't know where you come from, where you're going or why you do what you do. I don't know if we'd get along if we met. But there is one thing that I do know: You are capable of much more than you have been led to believe.
As I am writing this, there are 6.7 billion people walking and breathing on our humble rock. The overwhelming, vast majority of them will pass through their 720,000 hours like a match struck in the wind. Hardly noticed, scarcely remembered.

Tomorrow, as you go about your day, take your time to look around. Are there a lot of people around? What do you see? You see mediocrity. You see average. You see everything about yourself that you hate, that you fear, but that you have conditioned to believe is acceptable. Fine. Enough. A good job.

I'm here to tell you that you will NOT settle for what is fine. You will NOT settle for a good job. Fine is for the loser. Fine is for the guy who skipped the last set of his workout because he just didn't feel like it. Fine is for the guy who cheated on his diet (this goes for you too, you skinny fucks) because he just couldn't do it anymore. Fine is for the guy who took a nap instead of sprinting around town in torrential downpour. Fine is for the guy who got the job, but not the one he wanted. That guy made second place. He has never embraced pain, personal sacrifice, or thrown himself into the fires of dedication. Most importantly, and starting today, that guy is NOT YOU.

You are not that person. You are destined for greatness. You have it inside of you, and you know it. You have always known it, you have felt it as a faint thumping in your gut. It is clawing, scratching, struggling to be set free. It needs your help. As long as you hold yourself to the standard of 'average', that is all you will ever be. In your dreams you aren't average, so why the fuck are you settling for it now? What are you not doing right now? What is eating at the back of your skull? Go do it. You know what it is. The time to act is now. You will burn. You will suffer. Your demons will not be defeated easily. Every step of the way they will whisper in your ear that you aren't good enough. That you aren't meat to succeed. "Just give up", they will mutter, "you'll never be the best". "NO", you will reply. You will embrace suffering. You will finish that last rep. You will claw through the agonising pain. You will destroy the mediocre pussy in your head. You will break boundaries. You will rise above the rest. You will realise your potential.

You are no average man.


Goodbyes are depressing... mainly because you never expect to say it or think it is anything more than a "see you tomorrow" kind of thing. But life is unpredictable and you will seldom achieve what you had aspired to, or you will succumb to societys expectations; and when you lose someone and don't even get the chance to say goodbye, knowing fully... deep down in your heart that the person they were looking at wasn't the real you... that's soul crushing.

Chat logs

On my oldest, functioning computer, I have chat logs extending back to 2006. It's so hauntingly beautiful how much has changed... how much I've changed.
Reading these logs from 2006 to 2011 brings up so many undesirable feelings and memories I thought I had left in the past... and raises so many unanswered questions.
How did I become so heartless as opposed to being so sympathetic when I was younger?
How did I go from loving my ex-best friend to not talking to her anymore?
But from what I observed the most from reading all these logs... why does love hurt so much?

It's horrible to know that the people I have ill feelings towards I hurt less than those I care for, and vice versa. So much has changed... and it's funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back... everything's different.


"We don’t actually fear death. We fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace"

Star of wonder

If it weren't for me, you might still be alive. And I'm so sorry for that.


Am I the only motherfucker with a brain? I'm hearing voices but all they do is complain...

How many times have you wanted to kill everything and everyone, say you'll do it but never will

Eye can't see

I've always been good at hiding my emotions, but every now and then you noticed the little things. A small sigh under my breath that I didn't even realise I had made, or maybe I didn't put the 'smile' into my eyes quite fast enough. You asked me what was wrong, and I blew it off with a silly, semiplausible excuse like "I'm just really tired" or "ha little sighs are a habit I picked up from my dad, I don't even realise I'm doing it sometimes." I didn't wan't you to worry about me, but it felt good that you asked. It felt good that you showed you noticed, and even more important that you cared.

But you also believed me when I lied, and soon the tiny cues that I was having trouble keeping my head up wen't straight past you and you no longer showed me that you noticed, or that you cared. And I know it's my fault. And now that I've shut that door I have noone else that cares.

Be cheerful

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it's a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune, but do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are the child of the universe no less than the trees and stars; you have a right to be here and whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace.
With all its sham, drudgery, broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful

Humor is humorous

I'm not an alcoholic. Alcoholism is when drinking is a problem in your life. If my drinking is a problem in your life, then YOU'RE the alcoholic

Current status:

standing on a line between giving up and seeing how much more I can take

raise your weapon

You are the kids who never studied in school because you didnt need to, who made A's, B's and C's because you were smart enough to coast through anything teachers had to throw at you. You conquered the system and you knew it. Why suck up to teachers or focus on being popular when you won't see these people again after two or three years, right? Yeah, that's you. That was me, too. Life is good and easy, isn't it?
Well it is, and that's the problem. Life is good, but to be satisfied with what is good is to never become what is great.

I'm talking to you as an individual. Right now. The kid sitting behind his computer screen, wasting his time on the internet because it gives him a laugh, puts him in his comfort zone, and tells him that life is good and that he need not worry about following his dreams, whatever they may be, because he's got all he needs right here. The kid who is smarter and more talented than all his friends, but who has lost the motivation to show them. But he can change. It all begins with a decision, and all that decision takes is a little courage. You have it all but courage. It is the greatest virtue, because without it none of the other virtues can ever come to life. If a loving man does not have the courage to love, he will never love, and if a smart man never has the courage to reason, he will never do so. Whatever you are, the loving man, the smart man, the hateful man, the passionate man, the aspiring musician, artist, politician, philosopher, supermodel... all you need is courage, because you've already got everything else.
It takes strength to do those things, but the equation is simple, and the variables are there. All you need to do is utilise them. Emotional fitness; psychological strength.

Don't let me see life take control of you.
Take control of life.
Let me see some fucking heroes.


I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others-- only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his ribcage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad

srsly guise?

i understand how scissors can beat paper, and i get how a rock can beat scissors, but there's no fucking way paper can beat rock. is paper supposed to magically wrap itself around rock and leave it immobile? why the hell cant paper do this to scissors? screw scissors, why cant paper do this to people? why aren't sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they take notes in class? i'll tell you why, because paper cant beat anybody. a rock would tear that shit up in 2 seconds. when i play rock paper scissors i always choose rock. then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper i punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oh shit im sorry, i thought paper would protect you, you asshole!

Rescue me

I'm finding it hard to breathe and I've been drowning in my own sleep.I feel a hate crashing over me... So rescue me


There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she was blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry her boyfriend.

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her and then she could see everything, including her boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her, "now that you can see the world, will you marry me?" The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was blind too, and refused to marry him.

Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying "Just take care of my eyes please"

This is how humans change when their status changes. Only few remember what life was before, and who has always been there in the most painful situations.

Self respect

We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and-- in spite of True Romance magazines-- we shall someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely-- at least, not all the time-- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.

The world is meaningless

There is no God or gods, there are no morals, the universe is not moving inexorably towards any higher purpose. All meaning is man-made, so make your own and make it well. Do not treat life as a way to pass the time until you die. Do not try to "find yourself", you must make yourself. Choose what you want to find meaningful and live, create, hate, cry, destroy, fight and die for it.

Do not give in to hope. Remember that nothing you do has any signifiance beyond that with which imbue it. Whatever you do, do it for its own sake. When the universe looks on with indifference, laugh and shout back "fuck you". Remember that to fight meaninglessness is futile, but fight anyway, in spite of and because of its futility. The world may be empty of meaning but it is a blank canvas on which to paint meanings of your own.
Live deliberately. You are free.

Before you can grow up, you must fall in love 3 times

Once you must fall in love with your best friend, ruining your friendship forever.
This will teach you who your true friends are, and the fine line between friendship and more.

Once you must fall in love with someone you believe to be perfect.
You will learn no one is perfect, and that you should never be treated as any less than you deserve.

And once you must fall in love with someone who is exactly like you.
This will teach you about who you are and who you want to be.

And when you're through all that, you learn that the people who care about you the most are the ones that you hurt, and the ones that hurt you are the ones that you needed the most.
But most of all, you learn that love is only a concept and is not something that can be defined, it is different to each person that experiences it. And you will learn to respect each and every person on this earth, knowing that everyone only wants to be loved...

And you thought we were special...

"If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of the world"
So you're one of the high rollers. Your hard earned money goes towards buying materialistic shit that you don't need-- only want. And yet you feel so content with your possessions that are ultimately worth nothing. You buy more than you need, and you eat what you have, and end up throwing the rest away. And this, my friends, makes you look like a complete asshole whether you notice it or not.

So in spite of all this, you think your life has meaning? is there a specific purpose as to why you've come into existence from the plain of purgatory that you once hailed? Simply put, no. You are nothing but the product of luck and chance, and thanking your predecessors, skill and knowledge. If you honestly believe that an all mighty, all knowing, all powerful and loving God created this vast universe just for us then I have some major fucking news for you, good sirs. Let me clear a few things up...
The universe is so large that the human mind simply cannot comprehend the pure, eerie essence that it is. You honestly believe that God, someone who could create such a magnificent, mystifying and mind-blowing product, only created one species of super-intelligent beings on a planet covered by water. And not just water... but SALT water. Water that is undrinkable. 70% of it is undrinkable actually, and we can't even seem to breathe under there. So what's God's explanation for that? Shit I'd love to hear it.
If that isnt enough why don't you take a good fucking look around. Disease, poverty, war, racism, sexism, discrimination, terrorism, nuclear testing, torture, greed, corruption. And God is not responsible for this you say? Why is it that when something good happens, he is held in such high reverence, but when it's something negative you choose to ignore it. Ever wonder why? Maybe you should.
If you're able to picture innocent children being born into poor families, innocent children being born with a disability and mental retardation, innocent children who have done NOTHING wrong, being forced to exist in a world where they are mocked, treated like SHIT and suffer for all their lives, and you can still say with pride that God is all loving, then you are ignorant and you need to come to terms with the fact that the only reason why you believe in God is because in times of crisis, you need a shoulder to lean on. The reason why I don't need a shoulder to lean on is because I have supportive friends who are there for me, because they know I'm not a complete lunatic with an invisible friend.
And so I end the aforementioned points with this simple conclusive question:
150 years ago: the abolition of slavery
100 years ago: the emancipation of women
050 years ago: inter-racial marriage
TODAY: same sex relationships

Why is it that the church always has to be dragged kicking and screaming (by secular outrage) towards the tolerance and compassion that, ironically, it claims to hold a monopoly on?

And have you ever deeply thought about the 10 commandments?

The first four are blatant religious propaganda- basically a plug for the Hebrew God. The remaining six are dangerously held up as exhaustive and inspired by those who apparently haven't read them. For example, one wonders how 'lying' and 'envy' make the big list of dont's, but not rape, torture, child abuse, racism, slavery... and surely nobody still seriously believes that black and white moral guidelines are of much use in a grayscale world. "Thou shalt not kill" - but what about in genuine self-defense? "Thou shalt not bear false witness"- but what about lying to the Nazi officer who asks if you are hiding any Jews? True morality requires judging each case on its own merits, not just overlaying the same clumsy morality stencil on everything.

So what inspired me to write this giant block of text? In Society and Culture class today, we watched footage of the impacts and the implications that the Vietnam War had on the Vietnamese people. And let me tell you that if for one fucking minute you believe God is all loving, you're officially on a list of 'people who are clearly deaf in a world with nothing but sound'. The children... INNOCENT CHILDREN... born deformed, born unable to even go to the bathroom, walk, talk or perform any task that is essentially what makes us human... They are unable to farm land to feed themselves... and this is just in Vietnam. All over the world, people are suffering... the Arabs, Africans, Chinese, Cambodians to name a few.
And after all this you expect me to believe that I'm the one that's going to hell for 'being bad'. Ladies and Gentlemen there is no God, and no meaning to life. Science cannot yet explain how the big bang had occured, but we sure as hell know that we are who we are simply because we won the luck of the draw-- we're lucky to be alive. Some people may never even get to walk this earth. And we dare to say that the miracle of life is attributed to a being who allows such horrendous acts to take place.
To those who oppose, all I can say is fuck off and open your eyes


Washington, DC Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007.
The man with the violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later the violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes later, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
After 10 minutes, a year 3 old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

45 minutes... the musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32

1 hour... he finished playing and the silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.
Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organised by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and peoples priorities.
The question raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognise talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made... How many other things are we missing?

We must live the best life we can

You have seen it. Before you lies a great stretch of road and it is windswept, or blasted by the hot sun, or covered in snow, or it is dirt or concrete, or shrouded in darkness or bright and clear so you have to squint. But no matter what... it feels utterly empty. But there are sons who have lost mothers and mothers who have lost sons. So we must live the best life we can

The Martyrs

Lincoln became a martyr the same way John F. Kennedy would become one. And in their deaths, they created a symbol of freedom and peace... something this country can look up to.
The truth is death doesn't vindicate. It doesn't vindicate. It may have been good for the country but it wasn't good for Lincoln and it definitely wasn't good for John F. Kennedy. So what do you say? Did they die in vain?
If you had to ask John or Abe if they liked being shot in the head they'd probably say 'no'. We cannot dedicate. We cannot concentrate. We cannot hollow this ground for the tragedy lies they were robbed of their future and the possibilities that lay within it. And these lives will never be replaced


You will not be remembered if you die now. You'll be buried and mourned by a few and what more can you ask for? The world will spiral from underneath you and you are either too smart or too dumb to find God. Maybe you are angry. Only because the way out is through love. And you are just horny and lonely.

Reckless dark desires

So you're born in the capitol of the world. And you can never escape-- and that's how it is because that's how everyone wants it to be. It's all about want. Nobody needs anything here.
It is about when you wake up in the morning and snow is already coming down and its bright between the buildings where the sun falls, but already dark where the shadows are. And it's all about the want... so what do you want? Because if you don't want something, you've got nothing. You are a drift. You're washed away and buried under the snow and shadow, and in the spring when the snow melts, nobody will remember where you were frozen and buried. You will no longer be anywhere.

Unjustifiable existance

The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves; go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphorical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

The most important things are the hardest to say

They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried when you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for the want of a teller but for the want of an understanding ear.

One call

"If you were going to die soon and had only one call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?" - Stephen Levine


Love is when you shed a tear but still want her. It's when she ignores you and you still think the world of her. It's when she loves another boy, but you smile and say, "I'm happy for you," when all you really do is cry.

Just a little longer

You were afraid that you would disappear, that you would be lost and forgotten. I held you tight against the dark and said that I would always come for you. Then one day it happened. You were torn from my arms and vanished from this world. Maybe you don't remember my promise, but I meant every word. I hope you're not afraid, wherever you are. You don't need to be. I'm not. I will find you.

I feel contented

I feel contented to just stare at your display name even though I know you won't talk to me and I know that I don't have the guts to start a conversation with you

I miss you

Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you're doing something and wishing they were right there with you


The money required to eradicate hunger for everyone in the world has been estimated at $30 billion a year. IT IS A HUGE SUM OF MONEY. About as much as the world spends on the military every 8 days...

It's happening again

You're always tired from your mind going a million miles a minute. All that really appeals to you is cowering under covers and sleeping off all your relentless, pointless efforts in trying to make everything better. You are disillusioned. Maybe you know that you can change things around, but you question whether you want to or not. Because being sad has some kind of comfort to you- because there's always that familiarity. No matter how long your sadness has been prolonged, it's known that when you revisit it, the same thoughts, feelings and actions all take place. You revisit the same place where you left off.


The number of individual beings which could be standing here in your place vastly outnumbers all of the grains of sand, on all of the beaches, in the entire world. You're the inheritor of a genetic legacy which stretches back 3.8 billion years through the eons, and which has circled the center of our galaxy about 20 times.

You're the endpoint of billions of generations of birth, competitions, wars, and deaths; the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that can possibly result in you. Your forbears have survived arguably the single greatest ecological catastrophe ever to hit the planet; when the earliest plants started poisoning the atmosphere with oxygen. Yet, your ancestors learned to use this poisonous gas to produce energy in a way that had never been attempted before; an evolutionary triumph which paved the way for the first multicellular life. Your genetic line has survived floods, freezes, and meteor impacts from the skies themselves, preserving this single genetic line through the eons to lead ultimately to you. This is a legacy you share with every living thing on earth, from the largest creature ever to have lived; the blue whale; to the lowliest prion. You share this legacy with the blades of grass between your toes and the trees that give you shade. You are a thread in a huge, amazing, incredibly diverse tapestry of living things; some of whom have clawed their way out of the seas to survive on land, some of whom remained in the ocean, and a few of whom stood on land for a few million years, ultimately said "well, screw this" and marched back into the sea.

Once we add cosmology into the mix, not only does this legacy stretch to everything living, but to the non-living as well. You share your origins with the stars and planets, the asteroids which hang in space, all the way down to the loneliest hydrogen atom in deep space. All the parts that make you stretch back through the eons and have borne witness to the very birth of the universe. They have seen the birth and death of stars, supernovae, black holes and pulsars. They've seen planets torn to pieces and solar systems form. They've seen galaxies coalesce and skies darken.

The universe is much more grand, more amazing, more beautiful, more elegant and more subtle than has ever been written in any holy book, and you are here, against nigh-incalculable odds, to see it all. Just consider that for a moment.

When faced with two choices, simply toss a coin.

It works not because it settles the question for you, but because, in that brief moment when the coin is in the air, you suddenly know what you are hoping for

2:05 AM

I'm trying to sleep, but the voices in my head are too loud, and I'm remembering all these things that I've done. So I turn to my side and face the wall, and breathe slowly. Close my eyes, open them, close them once more. I see his face now, you know, the boy I told you about. Now, I know I won't be able to sleep. I suppose this is why most people are insomniacs; the voices won't go away, the memories keep coming back, and people haunt them in the darkness of the night. I turn the lights on, sit on the edge of my bed and cry. Just a little bit, just to make it easier to breathe. I turn the lights off and try to sleep again; it's going to be a long night.

I am unsure about who I am

I hate it when people judge me when I don't even know how to judge myself. Life seems so difficult when for some people it seems so easy. I feel like everyone in this world was given a manual on how to live but I wasn't given mine. I wonder why I don't fit in. These thoughts constantly haunt my mind. I hate how this world works. I hate people. I hate human nature. How are inhumane things human nature? I hate greed. I hate love. I hate hate. I wish life would just slow down.

I hate the fact that I think I might be deep when I type things like this. Are these actually my thoughts? or am I trying too hard to write something deep? I think I am incapable of feeling deep emotions. I've never cried at a funeral. I've never been happy at a wedding. I rarely smile. I feel very shallow. I hate posers. I feel this makes me a poser myself. I don't know why I'm writing my thoughts up here. Maybe it is to vent... maybe it is because I want to impress classmates. I'm not sure. I hate myself. I feel so conflicted. I wish the world was easy and I could just find out who I am. I plan out conversations that I might have with people so I can try to be less awkward around those people. I just don't really know what to do. I truthfully hope no one reads this, however I also want people to read this. I feel very nervous right now. I am conflicted whether or not to show or censor out all of these words. I don't think I've ever told anyone what is typed up here. I will probably end up not censoring these words. I hate the fact that I hope people will be impressed by this.

I hate that I want to impress people. I hate the fact that I feel the need to impress people. I hate it when people look at me weird. I hate how ignorant people are. I hate it even more when I am ignorant. What is wrong with me? Why did God put me on Earth? Ugh... I don't like me. Does anybody else analyse themselves like this? Is something wrong with me because I do? Is it sad that I find comfort that I characterise myself as insane so that i have a reason for who I am? Is it sad that I have all these thoughts in me?

Why do you care?

3:42 AM

You sit on your front porch, watching the street light across the street. It flickers once. It's 3:42 am and you just realised that even though your family loves you, the only thing you need is someone to care for, someone to love.
So you sit on your front porch, watching the light. You might smoke a cigarette or two, but you don't really need them. You watch the tree near the street light sway in the wind, scared of life.
You might have had a girl in your life once, but it soured and went wrong. It might have been your fault, but odds are that it wasn't. Odds are is that she dumped you, because being with you made her depressed. Then you realised that you just lost a great chance to change your life around.

So you sit outside your front porch. You watch the street light across the street. You might shed a tear or two, but this isn't a physical sadness that can be purged. This is a soul-crushing, black abyss kind of sadness. And you are scared and alone, all you want is someone to look at you and say: "Everything will be okay. Come with me"

Instead, you sit on your front porch. You watch the street light. And you die inside

Food for thought

If God is supposed to explain concepts like logic, causality and natural laws while at the same time being exempt from them himself, doesn't that make God an indirectly self-refuting idea?

This is a tribute to the nice guys

The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl's every facets, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style. This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they're at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don't end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for the time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all okay and she shouldn't worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you'd ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours to help her concoct a counter-rumor to spread about the floor. This is also for that time she didn't have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing 'serious' between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone "oh, but we're just friends!" And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyway. Because you're nice like that.

The nice guys don't often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don't seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can't. The only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as "oh, he's too nice to date" or "he would be a good boyfriend but he's not for me" or "he already puts up with so much from me. I couldn't possibly ask him out!" or the most frustrating of all "no,it would ruin our friendship" Yet they continue to lament on the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathise and apologise for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can't figure out where the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy) and what they do (I'm going to sleep with this complete ass now). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn't last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realise they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you're sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, insane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.


Does anyone know what a relationship is anymore? Everyone cries and cries and cries about how their boyfriend is too busy with parties to go to their big events or they neglect their needs or refuse to even just hang out... you think maybe you're with the wrong people? You ever wonder maybe the generic hot guy or asshole isn't really what you're looking for?
Your closest friends may even be genuinely in love with you. Those people that are always there, trying to make your life better! The one person that stands tall and supports you the most, always wants to chill and it never gets creepy or odd, and you share so much with... that person will always care more than some asshole druggy "hot guy"
I guess people need to wake the fuck up. You don't need anymore bullshit in your life to take you down. That person that brings you up all the time will never leave you. The whole 'friend zone' thing needs to end. If they're true friends they will never leave even if you do date. They'll be the people that can understand if things don't work out. People will never know what they are capable of until you give them a shot.
This isn't a post to say 'omfg date me please I'm desperate', I just want people to know that the people who really love you are closer than you think. The one person who can truly love you may be right next to you as you read this. You want to be happy with who you're with? Then take the chance and try it. I did once and it gave me the greatest memories of my life.
The good ones don't need to finish last. They're always the first person to go to if you need help, why make them the last chance for romance?

I am scared because I don't know what I'm feeling

It is anger and it is confusion and it is compassion in the purest form I can feel. It is elite and it is strong and it is the feeling of a guardian and it is the feeling of burden. It is selflessness and selfishness and jealousy, and it is possession. It is sadness, disappointment, and it is adortion, it is there and I know it is because I can just tell by looking at you...

The power to cause pain is the only power that matters

... The power to kill and destroy, because if you can't kill then you are always subject to those who can, and nothing and no one will ever save you.

I don't care anymore.

If I sit in my room all day doing nothing, there are no repercussions. For whom do I live? No one cares. No one depends on me. Nothing is worth it. There is nothing, only an emptiness that cannot be filled with video games and funny pictures, only masked by. And no one else seems to care, let alone notice my mental torment.

I want to die, but my life does not give me a reason to end it. The absence of a reason to end a life should never bring its demise. I feel like I want to break someone's heart, or get a terrible disease, or commit a violent crime just to have a motivation to tie the noose around my neck. But there is nothing... only a crushing depression brought about by my own admission.

I can't be that guy.

You deserve to be with somebody who makes you happy. Somebody who doesn't complicate your life. Somebody who won't hurt you. I'm sorry for all the times I kept you hanging and all the things I promised but won't be able to keep... and you know what? Thank you. Thank you because I loved you with a love so honest, unselfish and unconditional I never knew I was capable of it. But I'm sorry that it wasn't enough because you deserve much more.

Every fairytale has its ending and ours ends tonight. I know that everyone wants to be remembered for something, but I just want to be remembered by you.

I'm a fucking unicorn

I don't belong to a large or popular group, I'm not a nerd, I don't follow anything devotedly, and anime confuses me. I'm not a jock; I'm not good enough at any sports. I'm not massively intellectual; mainly have a strong sense of common sense that transfers over to some schoolwork. But, to those I know, I always have to be the cheerful guy, the one people tell their problems to. I have to remain the stable one that will always do what he can to help those around him, even if he knows they'll just ignore him later. I have my life sooo much better off because of my material possessions and my "happy family". I can't ever complain, or people call me spoiled or inconsiderate. I have my own problems. I have absolutely no personality. I base most things I do on what people around me do, and can never be the first to do anything. I rarely get invited to do anything, and I have only about 4 friends who like to spend time with me, and I don't like taking risks at all. I am incredibly lonely almost all of the time, have parents who think I'm completely fine and I end up spending most of my time playing video games, or on the computer to pass the time. The days blend into each other, just one more preset period of time before I can go to university and hopefully start a fresh, while still knowing in my heart that I am still going to be the same outcast I am now. And after all this, I still have to force myself up in the morning to walk outside and try to be the stoic one who can solve everyone's fucking problems because, after all, apparently I'm the fucking stable one.

Don't say another Goddamn word.

Up until now, I've been polite. If you say anything else- one word- I will kill myself. And when my tainted spirit finds its destination, I will topple the master of that dark place. And from my black throne I will lash together a machine of bore and blood, and fueled by my hatred for you, this fear engine will bore a hole between this one and that one. When it begins, you will hear the sound of children screaming-as though from a great distance. A smoking orb of nothing will grow above your bed, and from it will emerge a thousand starving crows. As I slip through the widening maw in my new form, you will catch only a glimpse of my radiance before you are incinerated. Then, as tears of bubbling pitch stream down my face, my dark work will begin... I will open one of my six mouths, and I will sing the song that ends the Earth.

We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones.

Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred.