You yearn for respect
So why do you do nothing to earn it?
You say it’s because of who you are
So worthless and unlovable
Disgruntled to the core
You’re not a misanthrope as you claim
If that were so you wouldn’t be so scared of being alone.
Why do we Blog?
Is it for fame, fortune, friends or forgiveness
Does every like we receive mean anything more than just one more like
Perhaps it’s written for you, or them, or me
Quite the curious question it is
Why do we Blog?
People are so desperate to be unique, different and individual that they end up being exactly the same as everyone else trying to do it.
Of the alternative individuals that have walked past the window this morning not one has really been any different form another, even though it’s evident they’re trying to be, because being a part of something bigger than yourself, a collective part of society is so wrong that you should be purged for it.
When will people learn that what has yet to happen has already happen once upon a time.
Once we were young, full of hope & dreams for the future
Protected from the world, happily free
Then we grew up
I came to realise a long time ago that I’m a hard person to be around, even harder to like and near impossible to love.
The reason why?
Being right all the god damn time.
Yet it never feels like it’s me who knows these ‘things’ many just come out of nowhere.
I know, what an egotistical prick to say such a thing, yet despite all hopes that certain t signs won’t go the way they will for people, regardless of the help you offer, the wisdom you share that has been cultivated from speaking to thousands of people far wiser than ones self for over two decades, people still never listen.
They just won’t do what I want, what they need to be doing so that they avoid the calamity that is approaching. It’s infuriating, frustrating, upsetting and tarnishes your faith in peoples ability to listen to reason.
It’s enough to send you mad.
What is it about reality that is so hard to grasp?
Gift, curse, fantasy or self told lie.
Whatever this thing is that seems to loom near me, whispering away about what is and what will be if things play out from the choice, I can say this much for it, annoyingly it has yet to be wrong and that is a scary thing to admit.
Those who know the alluring darkness of despair, once knew the truest and brightest light of hope.
Those who know the loss of anything and everything, once knew that which we all desperately seek, a love that is real.
Those who know, they are now the only ones who’d ever understand me.