Even the most simple experience can seem haunting when in the back of your head you always have something reversing your perception in every direction. The once inspiring trees tremble and groan and the lines in the wooden paneling inspire the sheepish thought of binaries taking away the essence of humanism. The daunting task of a spark of anything to give you something remains unlike the rest. Unlit, no flames, no heat, no heart, no lungs, nothing. A dud. If there is an infinite amount of possibilities, where are the protons? Hidden beneath a vast imminent force of relativity? A simple regurgitation of the truth of no truth, of some truth, of the paradox within that statement? Is it in anything particular, or everything without the particularity of one thing? Does knowledge come from the simple pseudo intelligence gracefully handed to us from the grips of technology or is technology helping us understand what we could have known better without it. Is the big picture worth leaving out the details? Is it easier to see although the knowledge is surface? Do galaxy filaments prove to us that all of this is just a construction of consciousness trying to understand itself through horrifying and beautiful means of existence that matter to nothing? We are less than the particles of fog unseen by your personal afflictions but felt by the mass of a whole. Fame farmers of our own generation gaining something by the strive for setting themselves apart from their own kind. Creating, conjuring, and compensating something, anything to set me a part because the American ideology gives me strength in myself so when I battle the world I can come out on top. Strength in numbers but strength in myself, I am the only thing I can believe in because there is no truth in anything but my own perception. My own ideals, the trees in which I have ever known to exist, are the only trees that will ever exist. 

Distinctly I remember the ladybugs on the bright white cracked wooden tree house, illuminated by day and innocence

The breeze of the spring and the bliss of ignorance shone down and granted and gave.

Raw happiness without the thought of it’s fleeting, without the care for meaning.

(Source: iamadamstanley)

This is one of those thoughts that people do not dare to mutter, to write down, to type, to mention in passing. Or, maybe this thought is just another cliche reoccurring thought that some can elegantly express without the slightest second thought. Nevertheless, it feels unique as it would for any human possessing their single soul full of first, second, and endless experiences. I feel like it could be one of those fleeting feelings that some ignore and go about their day after the thought passes, but for some odd reason, this one will not escape me.

I realize that I have no idea what the future may hold, and although I’m interested, it is not the most important thing. The most important thing is what has already happened, and what is happening. These happenings are so significant in my experience that is life. 

These are the fact that you are changing me. I can feel it in every sense as the blanket of night cover the clouds. The way I think, what I think about, and how I think about it. The direction in which my life may go, the people I will meet, and the things I will find important. In your presence, my dreams are more easily realized. My eyes are opened and the fog before the routes of life are cleared. 

If  I could get past my crippling insecurities, I would like to thank you. If ever find a way to do so, I will find it in me everything to do so. But for now, this worthless entry on a blog no one reads is the most I can offer.

I refuse to participate in pseudo one-sided friendships. I can’t find it in me to want to be friends with people anymore who pick me because I listen and because of how awfully gracious I am as a friend. I know that, which is why it saddens me when people absolutely neglect it. I realize that most people may be taken back because most friendships contain only mouths and no ears. Most of the time, it is a continuous cycle which I understand. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me how my day was, what I thought about something, or had a genuine conversation with. I love people and their experiences which is why I love and appreciate them. It’s just a little disheartening when nobody takes a step back and appreciate it at all. I really don’t mind listening, and I understand forgetfulness (although it is incredibly saddening), but I will not deal with people who use me as a tool to make themselves feel better and then throw away everything I’ve done for them or our friendship for something ridiculous or nothing at all.