People of Irony

These people… You know them.

We all know them.

One day the world will be at their mercy, cowering because of their rise; or so they would have you think.

They scorn without hesitation and then persist to be overcome by guilt when the opportunity they sought has passed, for them to become the martyr and not the tyrant. Soon after the passing of the tides they wish all that was said could be taken back, all the injustice could be wiped away and everything that’s now seen can be banished form existence.

I loath such people.

After the veils fall away you can see them, the moment is only brief but once you have seen you can never un-see. You will always know.

I say to those people make peace with yourself and let go of your guilt, it’s not worth holding on too, it will only destroy you from the inside out… slowly but surely, everyday and forever.

The most ironic part of it all is I too am one of those people.

What Lay Beneath.

Though I am not the strongest, fastest, smartest, most selfless or benevolent, I am honest to a fault and it causes me no end of troubles.

Honesty have never been the best policy. Who really wants the truth when it’s far easier to believe a convenient lie?

No one.

I was sat listening to a conversation today between two feminists. While both had fiery passion in their voices, the conversation was one of discrimination and prejudice, I fond the irony quite amusing.

It struck me that people want you to believe they’re as pure as freshly laid snow, but they forget that although the snow may portray a perfect image, it is what lies beneath that provides the substance and support of that image. Thus, the image can only be supported for so long before it melts away and we are able to see the truth.

Having an opinion is not wrong, nor is having a different opinion for that of your acquaintances, friends and even family. This is what gives us our individuality, our character, both good and bad. So why do so many try to hide what they are?

Fear is the only answer I can find, but perhaps I can’t see past the history of my life for anything else.

I believe we all live in fear to some form or lesser degree.

The fear of failure
The fear of achievement
The fear of persecution
The fear of loss
The fear of judgement
The fear of letting those in need down
The fear of not being what we pretend to be…

When the world around us is in flames and the black ash covers the ground for miles to see, this is when we will truly know what scares us. Will we fear the raging inferno and the life it will take from us, or do we fear surviving the blaze and having nothing to live for.

Death or Life.

Which will you fear?

Are We Really Free?

Some speak of freedom as if it’s a choice.

It isn’t…

It’s an ilusion.

We are bound by chains we cannot see, held down by weights we cannot feel, entrapped by walls that aren’t really there.

Cars and more.

Captives to souless, lifeless captures.

An eternity of servitude.

We are so owing to things, posessions… money.

Money makes the world go round? No. It doesn’t. Money keeps you in line, it has you under lock and key, that is why no one will ever be free.

Life is not free.

There is a price for life, do you know what it is?

That price is the same as it’s always been, and that price is life.

A life, for a life.

Like for Like

We are more than a facbook like, yet this is all the modern man cares about. We exchange likes for likes, there is a motive… You stop liking others pointless things and they stop liking yours.

How many likes will this status, photo, tweet, Instagram, vine get? 

Why is something so unimportant so important? 

Gone are the days where a mans word was his promise, his trust… his honour.

The internet is an escape. A place where people can pretend to be who they want, who they aspire too, perhaps even who they really are.

Life is more than a computer screen.

If you’re not happy with who you are then be someone else. Nothing is stopping you being who you want to be.

Time to step out of the shadows in to the light, stand up and be counted.


The trials of constantly having to prove ones self become tiring.

Each time the justification needs to be met the bigger the distance between us becomes, eventually there is no way to cross over anymore and we are left on separate sides of the chasm.

The ground was finally split be the vagrant thoughts of a random dream, it left a cut so deep in the group that mother earth could do no more. The fault is cast on to one side, as it always is.

Time and again I have shouldered the blame, repeatedly, always.

Nothing is ever enough, more is needed, more is wanted, more of my soul. They say to give yourselves to one another, yet they fail to mention the price you will pay.

Paranoia, jealousy, obsession and greed consume.

From another small journey I have learnt much about myself.

I lost a large part of me all those years ago. While there is no longer any feelings of love, remorse, anger or even hate I have come to realise that I am still damaged. Perhaps beyond repair.

The idea of my being seems to draw people in, much like a poisoned plant luring in helpless animals. They soon begin to understand what is beneath the colours and claim that I have changed, the sad truth being I’m the same as I was, but now they see everything.

None ever seeks to understand the fractured mind. Instead they try to fix it with pieces of their own, as if trying to fix gold with bronze.

Looking across the chasm before me I feel a slight twinge of sadness. It represents another failing in my short lived life. Alas I shall begin again to wander, one day it will all make sense I’m sure.

The Friend Who Loved You…

He looks at her with eyes of longing. He loves her, the fires of passion burn brightly behind his eyes as he stares across the coffee table at her, but that love is unrequited, it always has been and it always will be.

If the time ever comes where she looks at him the same it will be too late.

He will have made peace with not being the one she chose time and again. He will have watched as she was with everyone who had something he didn’t, he will have moved on.

A story of someone who’s always there, always close, but never close enough to make you see how much they love you.

Such it the tale of the friend who loved you…

Cross Roads

Life has once again given me another trial to endure. While not as taxing as some, I am finding this one amongst the heaviest to bear. It’s almost like struggling in quick sand, but, I’m not resisting it… I’m just letting it swallow me slowly.

I am coming to a cross roads in my life again. Soon I will need to make a choice that could make or break everything I am. While it is true I always pick myself up, I would be lying if I said I did’t ever get scared, though not in the sense people might think. But more the fact that I would need to start everything yet again.

Maybe it’s all self imposed? Perhaps I deliberately do it to myself.

We seem to feel most alive in struggle, strife and adversary.