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29 October Crying for out loud.This evening I did something I didn't do, for over one and a half year. I cried, for something from the past. I sended an E-mail, And I cried. I cried for what past, I could not take with me to the future. You lose one love, and then you look at another one, but you don't know, for the love is years in the future. And in your head you know you could go back, and would like to also. But once again, as always seems to happen. I face powers beyond my control. But not the ones of nature. And I scream, I scream so loud, my muscles tighten, and my hand turns into a fist. The dropping of the pile of catalogs is another proof that I'm no longer the men I used to be. As Angor, pain, and hate, changed my docile kind appearance, into a much stronger and wizer figure, who knows what its power means. And I know now, I can't just ask from others to trade their past, just as easily. I know that, what story was attached to that specific E-mail, I can tell that now. Only I have lost my questioner, or the possibility to come along. What curses have not been told over Love, or how it was declared in the past. I know, long before these days, that love has an entaglement with hate... And though Love, made me kind, loveing and insightfull. It was the simultaneous presence of hate, that made me strong, and well aware of all the virtues and sins and their meaning. One cannot live without either one of them. And as the cries turn away, I know, that the above was not what happend for the same reason of my tears. Only at the same time. I am not alone on this world. And I wasn't the only one changeing. But when I could have known, I was too blinded with my own problems. Which seemingly inhereted me with some inner hate, against 'love-fraud'. I need to calm , for I need to rest for my exams tomorrow. Weltrusten. 27 October All these questionsWho are you? What are your dreams? What do you like? I don't know. Your answer, is always the same, as my next step. All I ever wanted to, is hug you. But every question, was like a question on paper. Remaining somewhat uncomfortably answered, raising ever so more questions. And putting the initial title, so far away form the planned ending. Even the writer can't find it anymore, so lost in the sheets of questions. He just doesn't know. And a long blank page, and a blank line follows this. For it is true. A second chance? No more questions, a new page, a new title, a new ending. As the page bleeds to death, it dies an un-honorable death and the writings follow, in a more peaceful manor. No writer holds a grudge, for the readers. Or the reader. But Hope, is where the page needs to come from. Hope, well is granted by the reader. Someone who has had, plenty of empty papers in front of the eyes. Libro and SophiaTaste of figmentary thought: (-!-) Man, deluded creatures. Not being responsible for their own actions, as they prefer to blame others. Sick and dispickening, but so preciously beautiful, when respecting what is given. No Lifes shall be taken, unless they continue their solistic revolt. Mwah, couldn't take care of your little world by yourself ayé? All refused to stop thinking in wright and wrongs ayé? Now it is to late ayé? Ayé. Well now I'm here. not deluded mind will survive, no thick skull will make the dayreak. only the ones not to stubborn toopen up their eyes, and take responisbility of their lives. To draw out a path for themselves, no matter where it leads them. The only Evil here is selfishness. The only love here is comming from that same selfishness, and those who attained a true form of love? Well, they opened their eyes. Luckily not everyone dies these comming days... --- Libro --- What Eufory lies into your midst? What force has driven you all to blind joy? Where lust dominates, and love is forgotten in its whole? You people are all so busy turning things to a nice view for your eyes. That you forgot to see the colour it was pictured in. Did I really have to come all this way, just to cut your vains of joy? Couldn't you notice the strap it was being formed into? Ignoring isn't ignorant, it is frightfull. May your fears be thought of enough, to get you through these days. So that upon the following day, you might have some insight in what you are. That truth there is, you have ignored, and projected as a figment. As I am hoped to be. Shut your eyes, from the illusions all walking on this Piazza. Feel the water... --- Sophia --- This has nothing to do with any of my regular readers.Faint - linkin park 22 October It is all coming back to meWhen, the ones I miss, don't answer, and don't want to answer the questions of who I am. Every Emotion, every pain, every joy, all comes in an instant, the feelings of possesion of the things in my hand, the hate, the dispise, the addictions the arrogance, all the persones I compared myself with, all the confusion and the fear, and all, all the ignorance I had. Maybe as an reminder, maybe as a vital part of me. It gave me peace, and calmth, in a way, so, so very precious few can eve begin to understand. It still resides in me, it is still part of my being, The deceit of the selfish mind, and the very first love I had for it. The Boy I would hunt down, The women who keep their blondes on a leach, and even Ansjovis. the attachments that are suposed to keep me down to earth, though the human race has already cut them a whil ago. I have no quarrel with anyone, no ennemies I do not treasure already, no friends I do not want, And only the question, why I ran out of questions at all, because I can't become selfish enough to believe the Answer I thought up. Could, perhaps, someone, who thinks they know me, Tell me, What Am I? What do you think I am? Thank you. 18 October Quotes de moi:-- I am a bastard, I tell people what they do not want to hear, and what all those voices in their heads have been screaming to them for months on. -- The Infinite Wisdom of the crowd, Is ignorance. To show true compassion for that, what they do not understand. -- The search for truth, is more like a crusade in a swamp, then a walk in the park. -- The more things you are convinced about the truth, the harder it gets to understand change. And thus nature itself. -- In time, you might see the difference between, Love and love. One of these we do not need, but it isn't the one we do not seek. 15 October LoveOne does not say sorry, or confess sin, over love. One does not say sorry, for loving one other. One needs to accept the fact, that life, involves death, and no love shall last forever. Not even in death. But one should make out very clear, to oneself, that all we will ever love, is that what isn't ours. On cannot love that which he beholds in its power. One cannot love, that what it understands. One can only love that, which is beyond its control, beyond it power even perhaps beyond its grasp. For one can only love that which can leave, even though sorrow, and grief might follow. One can only love that which will be missed. 13 October If A rat gets its motivation, from rewards;Why do I stil believe in love? 11 October Een blonde dame aan het lijntje houden enzoMisschien, (dat is eigelijk al twijfel genoeg, dus daar laat ik het dan ook bij) Als aan het lijntje houden, alleen maar goede bedoelingen heeft. Kan het dan fout zijn? Tja, als je niet weet hoe 'goed' in die bedoelingen nou eigelijk is gedefineerd. Ach laat maar, ik weet het niet meer, ik weet het echt niet meer. Ik hou op met proberen te begrijpen. Je kan, en hoeft, gellukig niet alles en iedereen te begrijpen. Iemand is onbekend misschien beter. Al hoop ik, dat ik kleiner dan de mais, maar toch wiskunde kan, niet kwijtraak ofzo. En waarom? Al sla je me dood. 08 October Een blonde dame aan het lijntje houden.Want dat is wat je deed. Althans wat ik dacht. Maar ze liep gewoon met je mee. Met haar glanzende haar, en knuffelig karakter. Maar wel zodanig vrij, dat ze gewoon midden in het groende veld, haar ontlasting durft te deponeren. Maar ik kon me er eigelijk niet veel om bekommeren, het meisje waar ze mee liep was veel interessanter. Zo anders, en zo veel groter bovendien, ook al was de maïs langer dan beide, enige flair hadden ze wel. Maar wat deed ik daar dan? Het tafereel aanschouwen? Nee, ik was per ongeluk expres mijn paraplu aan het uitlaten, want op de een of andere manier, helpt dat tegen gemis. En tegen vallende eikels, maar niet tegen lopende, er onder. En ach, misschien valt de herfst voor mij wel mee. En de eikels tegen. Ze zijn wel lief, of ze is eigelijk. Want ik geef niet zoveel om blondjes die aan het lijntje gehouden worden. Maar wat heb ik toch met haar? (niet het blondje) Ik hoop niet dat ze denkt wat ik denk dat ze denkt. Al heeft ze daar wel redenen voor. Alleen ik niet genoeg om het daadwerkelijk te denken. En nu is het al helemaal onnavolgbaar. Ach, zolang ze maar gelukkig is. Met een blondje aan het lijntje, ergens tussen de snelweg en wat maïs. 05 October Haha,I can but smile, at life. And how troubled some people seem to be with it. Why? Why not, although they don't think they can solve their own problems, I know they can. And I know how. But luckily I don't need to tell them, I musn't tell them. Let them find it out by themselves. But have faith in them anyhow, because I know they will succeed. So I laugh, smile, cuddle them, or praise them, because I know, they will solve it themselves one day anyhow. And I know, so I believe in them anyhow. Haha, I'm so melo-dramatic. I'll take you to the theater, And maybe make a stroy for you, or a poem. Or show you, even more beauty of the world. As some evenings near the water prove can be :) I'm going to bed now, because I know, this won't be read anyhow. 01 October Profeet(teur) in Spé?Vragen of ik iets uitmaak in deze wereld zijn door, inmiddels allang niet meer zeldzame, momenten van eigen inzicht kompleet overbodig geworden. Hoe minder problemen je voor jezelf hoe meer je die van andere ziet. En ergert hoe primitief andermans probemen zijn. Kan men niets beters verzinnen? Iets Soap-achtigs ofzo? Iets dat meer is dan alleen maar een agenda-puntje, of de zoveelste foute man, of misgevatte liefde? Waarom zou men? Hiermee doet men het prima. Geniet men mischien niet genoeg van het leven, en kijkt men te veel naar de problemen? Die vraag kan je zelf ook beantwoorden.
Of praat men te veel in het luchtledige? Afhankelijk van welke taal, kan ik die vraag zelf eigelijk ook wel beantwoorden. Het slaat me hard, Diep pijnlijk egoitisch en oppervlakkig. Want ik heb vrijwel geen vragen meer over mezlf. Alleen over het hoe en waarom van anderen. Leuke vragen:
Kan iets beter pijn doen dan gevoelloos zijn? etc. Ik kan zelfs niet meer dan 1 voorbeeld geven. En wat heeft het voor zin, geen nederlander die commenteerd op mijn schrijven, behalve verloren 40 plussers en baby-boomers die nog steeds niet snappen wat nu belangrijk is. (en die ik desondanks graag aanhoor) Of meisjes die ontdekken, dat hun leven helemaal niet zo bijzonder verlevend of uniek blijkt te zijn dan ze gehoopt hadden. Of een jongen die dat ontdekt, en dan vooral bezig is, om zich daaroverheen te zetten. Hmmm, het idee alleen al. Vicky, als je dit al leest (hetgeen ik mij wel eens afvraagt) je doet het perfect. En als je dat niet gelooft, dan bevestig je alleen maar mijn antwoord. Voor al die andere: Ik spreek jullie toch nog wel in levende lijve. Zou iemand een Commentje willen zetten onder dit artikel? Al is het alleen maar om mij uit te kafferen ;) |
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