WARNING: you don’t have to read the whole post. Read random bits, skim through it, or don’t read it at all–I don’t care. But you might find something you like in it, so maybe you should read it anyway. After all, everyone takes a different lesson from the same class.
As the summer draws to a close, I’ve found myself pondering more and more the quandary of friendship. Now, I could go through a big, inspiring speech about what friends are and my views on them, but I think that you all should ponder that for yourselves. But I think that you should, in fact, ponder it. It’s worth pondering. Questions like
Why do we seek friends? Why do we need the human contact?
. . . Alright, nevermind. I’m not feeling it. I’m not feeling the… transcendence this post requires to write. So scrap this. Here are some poems instead that I like.
by: C. W. Longenecker
If you think you are beaten, you are.
If you think you dare not, you don’t.
If you like to win but think you can’t,
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost.
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow’s will.
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you are out classed, you are.
You’ve got to think high to rise.
You’ve got to be sure of your-self before
You can ever win the prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man.
But sooner or later, the man who wins
Is the man who thinks he can.
Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes
It is during our darkest moments we must focus to see the light
Happiness resides not in possessions, and not in gold, happiness dwells in the soul.
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_inspirational2.html#2GzB1OdKXsC22ui0.99
(all of those quotes came from the brainyquote site.)
Okay… and I’m still not feeling it. (the picture above is great, though.) Sometimes I guess life is just like that, you know? Maybe you don’t. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe this world doesn’t even exist, and I’m actually just a figment of my own imagination. But if I am a figment of my own imagination, then who is the one imagining me? Is it still me? Or am I, to them, just an insignificant part of their imagination?
(from this point on, I just spilled my thoughts onto paper as they came to me. I did not edit, I did not think as I wrote, I simply… did. It was a great experience. Kind of like conscious walking. You should all try them both.)
I know I’m just being silly. I know I’m me, and that I am my own being… but sometimes, just sometimes… I can get lost in my own mind. Does that ever happen to you? In my head, my little world in my mind, I have an entire world. I’ve often told people that I don’t think they’d survive in my head, and I really don’t think they would.
In my mind I have wild vibrant rooms where my wild side roams free,
and a peaceful calm zen rock garden/pool that my spirit resides in,
and more than just a few deep, dark corners in the basement where fear hides in a corner and weeps, wishing she could be saved. There are even a few torture rooms down there, I daresay.
And sadness. Sadness roams the halls at night sometimes, a heavy regret evident in her eyes and tears often upon her cheeks.
And that’s just the beginning. Of my house alone. There are also several continents, and a few oceans, and millions of countries. Each country is its own story, with its own characters, and its own emotions.
And then there’s the filing room. A long, long corridor, lined with filing cabinets. Each cabinet is filled with manila folders. each folder holds a memory. A thought, a feeling, a moment in time. The corridor stretches on forever, and once I get to a certain point, the cabinets are empty, waiting to be filled.
Why am I putting this in a post? why I am publishing this? Me, who has what can be defined in inadequate, simple terms, as ‘trust issues’ (this is my own name for it, not a therapist’s. For all I know, I could be a healthy, well adjusted, useful member of society. But I still don’t trust easily.) Is it because I can’t see who will read this? Is it because I don’t know who is reading it, so I don’t care what they think of it because their opinion won’t hurt me, because I won’t ever really know them personally? Or is it because it just feels good to rant, and I want to do it somewhere other than a piece of paper? It could be any of these things.
and after having written all of this and doing it so smoothly and not thinking at all, why is it that inspiration has to go away? Why can’t I just keep having moments like these forever? And why do I always seem to be able to come up with plenty of questions, but few answers?
I think… I will have to think about the answer some more before I feel ready to share it.
It’s happening again. My brain has turned back on, and I’m starting to wonder again, ‘would it be okay if I write this? Is this acceptable? What if they don’t get it?’ Why can’t we all just realize that not everybody needs to get it. Maybe nobody needs to get it. Maybe it’s just the fact that we put it out there that makes a difference. I can’t expect anyone to totally understand everything i’m saying–since nobody would be able to survive in my mind but me. And I don’t think I could survive in anyone else’s. And because words are inadequate things that all too often fail to express what we really feel and mean, I think I should just let the post end here, and hope that maybe, just maybe, I was able to touch somebody’s heart.
After all, this was just a quick thought, right?