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Out of your chest.
You have to, or you'll die; an agonising, painful, shameful and pitiless death, death of your soul, at least. Or perhaps your conscience might rot to the roots. Think about all the hideous conditions your metaphoric insides might face if you keep all buried deep inside you: the poisonous tank of gas or the ticking bomb threatening to detonate any moment or the simple undecorated coffin of a faceless somebody. That's the point I make a blog. Or maybe it's a bad idea since it's here, in public, available to reach from all points around the world; countless people will have the ability to besiege me from all sides, pointing guns at my face for what I've stated. But I don't care. Or at least that's what I told myself. -- This world is full of rotten things, so full that I can't even tell which is and which isn't any more. I may have not seen everything, what with my youth and, my limit of humane brain's ability to record and analyse all sorts of information accurately, but I have seen many, many things enough to lose hope. I can't bear thinking of an ideal world, in which the matters will just "magically" disappear like rainbows after ten minutes. No, it's not that simple. From what I understand, what is wrong might be right and what is right might be wrong. Justified injustice and unjustified justification, foolish educated people and uneducated smart people. Opposing ideas mashed up into one complex, unrecognisable concept. The thought of it alone is confusing enough that most of the time I stop bothering to untie the imaginary knot and just let it be. I guess this means I'm slowly growing up. I could still reverse the process, I hope. I won't grow up and lose all those qualities I love. -- I'm sorry for an angry post. I was working on some sort of story and it was in my draft..I might finish it soon. |