The leaves that fall in autumn, the waves that keep crashing forth and back, the waterfalls that dried up, the friendships that died with the last playtime. The time that we lost, and the memories we no longer remember. The deleted photos and the laughter that hurts your stomach. The what could be’s and the dreams that are forever lost in the cosmos. The series that never finished, the tingling lust that’s now turned to dust. The childhood creativity and innocence that we took for granted.
On some days, it’s good to reflect on all the incredible things that have happened in your life. Sometimes, even the bad things can bring a sensation of tranquility. Of just being.
The reason I write this blog is to help people find the root of what they want. Because we spend so long doing things we don’t care, to impress people who we don’t like, following rules that seem so arbitrary and pointless.
I write about how you can’t escape society’s clasp on you, but that force is weak. It’s like gravity. Forever present in your life, but only as strong as you let it get closer and bigger than you. Life is still your creation. Every time you blame society for your own inability to do what you want, you let that force become bigger.
Regardless of what the truth is, if you believe that everything in life is your responsibility, then you win back control of your life. You push society’s rules away from you, you make them smaller. You weaken gravity.
A lot of what I write is based on logic or at least I try to. Sometimes though, the best advice you can give someone is the cliché to listen to one’s heart. To take that risk. To breathe that breath. To feel alive. To not be dead before your heart stops beating.
Nothing you do will outlast time. Good or bad, everything will fade away. First twisted, then forgotten. There is a genuine graciousness in that. A freedom to just be. To admire and feel. To drink the venom of pleasure. To do what others can’t, no matter how silly it may be.
There is a reason why we value things that don’t last and become bored of things that are always there. It’s because there is nothing more beautiful than the tragedy of an hourglass of love.
