Death of Love's Hero.

There once was a boy,

In this perfect world that everybody lived in. Every person could find their place or just travel until they would. Love was found every where, you could see it in the eyes of men, women and children. Dreams were fulfilled, people were happy, so why in a perfect world, do we tell this story about a happy boy? Well he was happy, but not normal, not like everyone else normal. In every story there must be a balance, like in every world and if the balance get's too one sided. Well, not too long until someone will bring the balance back. With everyday he grew and with every negative response he got, he felt like he was pushed and bullied, day by day, he failed seeing the points of those that pushed him time after time. His understanding was short of logic and reason, the pieces didn't make any sense, nothing had it's place. Day after day he asked around to find that piece that could tie at least two pieces together, but he failed to find them. He tried for years, through puberty, and even after. Getting himself closed in a corner of a house, trapped and short in sight.

The moon became his best friend, the voice of reason was agreeing with him saying "Why are they doing this? It's harmful!". The moon always told him: "The universe might seem to be a mess, but everything has it's point and everything is in it's place.". Starting to thing that he's crazy, talking to the moon and himself trying to figure out what's wrong with him or the world. Frustration was building up inside him, stress was killing him, no one understood him, so short was this young man to snapping and losing it. He never understood why it was him, that couldn't do one thing right? How come in this perfect world this amazing universe, made the most imperfect man there could be? He needed relief and the only way he knew to express himself was by writing, he began writing lyrics, stories, he wrote everything down that hurt him. So he wrote songs two a day, stories more than you could ever read in two life times. His way of dealing with the world didn't change anything, but freed him, at least for a minute of peace, until everything crashed again. Escaping was no option ,there was no place to run, even though he began to roam the world.

Years of writing and traveling and he still didn't understand how in this world, the only thing he got was hate or rejection. He knew people weren't against him, but they were for themselves. With every dream crushed and every negative response, he managed to get back on his feet. Because the only thing he desired was to find that one place, that had love for him, that understood what he wanted. That dream of building a world around a person, and every time their world would collapse to rebuild it. Even at the thought of knowing that there is such a place, his power grew stronger and stronger. And his sight was narrower and narrower by day. Until the faithful day when he collapsed on his knees screaming: "If there is one person, in this world..." and thus giving his last breath, dying somewhere unheard as the man that love would call him his hero.

The story says that there was no one since him to give such love to the world, because no one ever heard of him and no one knew him. He was a silenced romantic that died for love, but noticed by nobody.

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Bad Fiction Ep. 1 & 2 [Bonus Content]

Bad Fiction Ep. 1

As I lift my eyes up, looking at the sky. It dawned on me, the burn of my peehole was a result of all that love I had in me.

“Why are you crying?” she asked like nothing happened.

“It’s nothing, I’m just distraught.” I lied to her. It was the fact that my poopy hole was itching, and she didn’t take her eyes of me. They were really slimey.

“It’s okay, baby.” She continued.

It was not okay, between my two problems the erection she had was only making things harder for me. And the fact that the spaghetti I ordered was so salty, made me think of all those League players I bummed.

“Do you want something for dessert? Or do you want to have dessert at home?” She asked then winked at me. In all honesty, I had no fucking idea what she was talking about. Since she put her finger in the cream the waiter brought her for the coffee.

“Yes, I would like something sweet, not sour.” I said. She frowned afterwards. I was pleased, she looked better when she frowned. Like Batman, but sexier. Since she didn’t need a costume. She was a mystery for me, yet I can’t forget about her and that dinner… As if this wasn’t the last time we’re going to see each other in such a setting.

Bad Fiction Ep. 2

It was a faithful day. The time seemed to stop. The sun was shining. We bathe in its rays for the first eight hours. We were simply delighted.

“What a great day.” She spoke softly.

“Indeed.” I responded in a crass voice.

“Hopefully tomorrow will be the same.” She said with hope and a smile on her face.

“Aaaahhhh!!!” We both screamed. We didn’t know whose smile flew on her face.

“I love you!” We heard as the sky shook.

“I love you!” It continued the voice, as it seemed to get closer.

“I lo…”

“We know!” We shouted back and interrupted the voice.

“Hmph!” We heard, as everything was wrapped in a blinding light. It started to rain, with every drop we heard a matching scream.

“You two are rude, hope you both freeze to death. Have a good night.” Said the voice, as the air was filled with the smell of cooked bacon, burnt hair and screams of agony. The blinding light turned to darkness, the heat of the day turned to freezing cold. As the faithful day turned to a sleazy night. The crying of the sun could still be heard sometimes, even though we haven’t see him take to our sky to give us warmth.

“Betty?” I asked, with no answer, sadly.

“Betty?” I asked again, trying to find some hope in this darkness. Everything under my feet seemed to be ashes. I fill my mouth with some meat that I found on the ground. I was hungry. The screams died down, it seems I was alone. I would have cried, if my eyes wouldn’t have melted. Especially knowing that this meat tasted like my sweet Betty. My sweet and dear cow. It was the last time i actually ate anything. And that was fifteen years ago.

“Do you love me now?” I hear again… As everything burns once again. But it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t know what he was doing. He was just searching for love.

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Censor$%&p

Humans... The only beings that use articulate means of expressing themselves, but also censoring themselves.

We use different means of communicating with each other, either by spoken words, written words, sign language or body language. We use languages to express ourselves and transmit information and so on and so forth, I think you might know well what languages are used for. But we're also the only creatures to express, define and understand an infinity of things, essences, ideas, feelings and so on. So why censor any of it? Isn't the beauty of humanity to express ourselves in the words we use? Why is it that people think that a certain more vulgar way of expressing, and explaining things is crude and childish? I think that limiting the use of languages in any way is nothing but harmful and it let's language to be used as a tool for carefully crafted manipulation and masking of the truth. Even though the same limitations do backfire when it's used by public speakers or politicians. And when I say masking of the truth I don't mean conspiracy stuff, I am referring to everything. There's a way to express things directly and in a simple way, but the use of over-complicated words and censoring makes a cover for many loopholes and interpretations. Even for things that should be expressed directly.

And then there is the "Why?" when it comes to censoring, many people consider censoring of the language in movies or any type of content for what? To preserve the innocence of children? Not let children be exposed to profanity? Isn't that the same problem as the idea of sex talk? Where parents and society in general avoid talking about sexuality because they don't know how to explain it? Which leads to problems like what is consent and teen pregnancies? Not exposing children to profanity, sex and sexuality or violence, does not help them in any way, they will see or hear about it in any way, shape or form. And there won't be anyone to explain it to them, which like I said can lead to big unforeseen problems, because usually the response from authorities like parents or teachers is to scold the children, instead of educating them. Which ultimately will have the opposite result, making them want to use the words in the utmost worst way. Instead of being curious of why and learn to understand.

And while we're on it, we have to talk about sensitivity. I don't get the idea of being insulted, offended and so sensitive to words in the first place. Words can't bare any weight to them if you don't give them power in the first place, so being insulted because someone said something is plain stupid. Instead of being offended or insulted why not educate and talk to them? If that doesn't work then don't bother with them anymore, it just isn't worth it. And I have to mention again the fact that jokes, jokes are a free for all and it's the pure form of uncensored language. And bringing up people to be sensitive to jokes or any words for that matter, does nothing but... Well look at this past generations and today's generation to see how sensitive are people. Now I have to say this, I am not saying that being insulted, offended by words, jokes, insults is a bad thing. Because when it comes to certain things it is important to feel offended or insulted, but by words and ideas that diminish a certain group of people, being by ethnic, sexual preferences or human rights.

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Address to a dress

Let's just get over with this.

God damn it, the sexiest thing a woman or anyone can have is not their mind. A mind is nothing tangible or sexy in the slightest, neither is(referring to being sexy) her/his brains. So please stop saying that, here's the thing. For someone to be sexy it means that they must think, act, be a certain way to appear more appealing to someone. It means maybe for some to have confidence, to smile a lot, the way they talk, walk, flirt, express themselves. Those are things that make someone be sexy, attractive or appealing. Not their mind, brain or heart, secondly not everyone can be sexy, attractive or appealing. Let's face it (or maybe not), some are fat and disgusting, some don't wash themselves and are disgusting, finally some are just damn ugly and disgusting. And there is nothing sexy about that unless you make it so, with the help of fetishes.

No matter how intelligent, approachable, mature, wise, cunning a person might seem when you talk to them, ultimately after seeing all those things, your boner (visible or not) is going to be because of your physical attraction towards her. Not your urge to fuck her mind or brain, because there are many people you can be attracted just in a physical way, without even noticing what they are saying. That's why there are so many "hot" and sexy and attractive people to which we look up to. We really don't give a rats ass about what they think, feel or say, as long as we are attracted to the physically, we can forgive and forget a lot of bullshit. Besides many people even if they are mature, wise, intelligent, they are not sexy, most of them you can ignore or at least don't want to get to know them better. Well that's unless they are attractive and you're willing to sacrifice your peace just to be with them.

Want proof? Well here's a good example, Emma Stone. She believes her grandfather, which she never met and has passed away, leaves 25 cents around her house/apartment. Kesha thinks she fucked a ghost, Tom Cruise thinks aliens did something to us, just look up scientology (too long to discuss and I'm not willing to do that right now). And I could go on for hours on end, the point is, we do not care, we find them sexy, attractive, hot or dreamy. But not due to their minds or/and brains, and it's bullshit. No, actually it's hypocritical of every woman/man that says that the sexiest thing about someone is their mind, because what everyone looks for and judges a future partner first and foremost is how they look. If they do not like that or are not attracted enough by you, than what do you think really does not matter? Looks or brains? If that would be true, the fact that the mind is the sexiest thing anyone can have, we would have had from now until the dawn of time, people competing to be the smartest person on this planet or universe, rather than posting shitty fucking quotes on social media.

[Take this short story rant for what it is.]

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To The Black Coated Red

From Me,

I feel like a dumb-ass, but I don't know how to reach you otherwise or how to make you realize it. I am trapped in between the walls you created. I am simply stuck, and creepily as this might seem, you left me to death when I wonder towards the black coated red you used on me, even though unwillingly. I don't know why yours worked when nothing else did before on me like that. And I write to you again from the corner of the black coated red where some dark escapes to bring some light, even though it might never reach you as I want to.

The more I stay here and think about it, the more I don't want to leave, the more I try to leave and find an exit to all this, the pain only increases in intensity, yet I enjoy it. It works my mind in a weird way and the conflict excites me, just as the improbability drives me. The odds of death and misery to those of disappointment only for a piece of happiness are thrilling. Just the thought of the forbidden fruit that might be hidden either ,inside this place of black coated red where you trapped, or somewhere outside these walls, me makes me smile like an idiot. As a flawed human there's nothing more I desire than that which you hid from me, even though it might be just an illusion  or a lie, I want to take that chance for only one bite, just like Eve bit into the apple. And risk an eternity in hell for one simple taste of Eden. 

I am getting blinded by darkness, though there's still a glimmer of light in the corner of my eye that guides me nowhere, but holds me running in circles. And shadows seem to grow around me taller and taller to take my last piece of light and empty my sight, but I close my eyes to see a brighter light, one that frees me from the black coated red you've entangled me. A place where I can see stars again and that black coated red is nowhere to be seen, just a simple pixel in the vast past that once was shelter or a chamber of torture. The touch of the free soul of mine with the stars is nothing but soothing and smooth. I finally found the place I wanted us to arrive at from the start, that piece of Eden in hell. 

Yet here I am feeling pressure on my chest, suffocating slowly, as I open my eyes to see the black coated in red taking my last breath and smile as I am relieved of my misery.

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The Boy That Cried

A tear can be more then enough...

I was told since I can remember that family is supposed to be love, support, trust and happiness. And a home should be a place where there are no mistakes and there's always forgiveness and a warm meal that comes along with the embrace of feeling safety at any time. I believed in this idea and I still do, since a family should be all that and more, even if families differ and have their different religious beliefs or traditions, no matter how broken it is a family and a home should be the same thing for everyone. I might be naive and one of the biggest fools you're reading about. But we all wish that what I believe would be true for each and every case, even though we all know it's impossible and it's most likely just a lie we use to make ourselves feel better. As I was growing up I didn't understand what was happening around me or why and I couldn't care less since my promise was being kept. But as time passed cracks started to show up and the things I didn't care about and didn't know about started to show little by little, and my precious world started to be shaken, but I wasn't scared I knew problems would occur, I knew the world wasn't perfect it was only bigger then me, but I also knew the fact that I was growing and the world would get smaller and I was right. As we moved from a place with many dear people to me to a place where we were just a few, that was the first time I was told that this is my home and in this very place whatever happens I will be safe and I will have my place here. And the fact that our family should trust each other and we shouldn't lie when we're in a family. My dream became reality, I was finally home, my first home and the only home I knew

I was afraid as things flew around the house and screams were all I was hearing. Shouts of hate were all around me, I couldn't understand why was this happening and how can this be reality, when I was promised a loving family and a paradise just for being their son. As my father threw everything he could grasp in sight in his madness, the slurs that were said that night I still can remember them clear as the light from the summer sun. After a while all calmed down while the tears were just rushing on my mothers face and my brother was just oblivious to what was happening. The next day everything went back to normal like nothing happened, I couldn't grasp the situation, but I didn't care since my home was still standing and for that alone I was happy. A few days later while I just fell asleep I just heard a shout and a slur, it was happening again. He just came woke me up screamed at me and for some reason just threw me at the wall while telling me I'm a worthless piece of shit. I don't know what I did wrong or why I was punished for something, but everything was hurting. I couldn't get up from the bed as I heard my mother screaming and he insulting her over and over again. In the end I couldn't hear or see anything, I just fainted. The next morning I woke up and went to school, on my way to school my nose started bleeding, that never happened to me before. I was scared I didn't know why all that was happening. The same night, he came and started screaming again, insulting me and my mother, he started throwing the food around as he hit me with a plate and mother with a jar. I was petrified, what was I to do or try to help her and myself in this situation? When suddenly he got up from the table took a knife ripped mother's clothes while insulting her, I started pulling him, but I didn't have any power to actually do anything. He just looked at my mother and said "If you dare take this fucking knife out of this wall I am gonna fucking brake you! Now give me something to fucking eat.". I just went and hid under the blankets helpless, scared and scared. All this became a habit for him and a very cruel punishment for my home and what I could call a safe place to be.

In the end, the only thing that changed until this day is the fact that I am now seeking someone to build that home with, and now that I burned down my false and ruined home. I really do hope I can find another place and someone to build a home with.

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Observer

"This world is a giant circus, and I have front row seats to the show" - George Carlin

I myself like to think of my actual job as an observer. Granted this job was harder in the past, but now I have no limitation to the information I can get. I am up to date with events, discoveries, trends, technology, politics, social issues, books, music, movies, TV shows, the whole internet. So this job of being a diligent observer is easier with the help of my dear friend the internet. And I don't mean this in a creepy stalker way, but more in a critical approach to everything kind of way. I just sit around observe you and what's going on, and how people change trends, ideologies, behaviors and how they have a hypocritical and often ignorant and selfish way of looking at things. And now after so many years of observing you could say I became pretty decent at this job, but you see, here's the problem with the job of an observer, you just sit observe in silence. And this is the worst part of the job the silence, not being able to speak out, because it's always the observer who talks crazy. But as an observer no one listens to you, you do not exist or matter to the one you speak at or about. Which is nothing more than ironic in itself, an observer that wants to speak but isn't heard. I can see why this will never work, but the turmoil inside of an observer is hard to pinpoint. It could be the ideas floating in his brain constantly fighting and working towards completion, it could be the willingness to scream STOP! or please don't do that anymore. This can be nothing more than torture if the observer feels, cares, loves or has any desire to do something, especially when they chose this themselves and society puts them back in their place any time they try to speak up.

But that's not the beauty of an observer, but just the eye that he has for anything, everything, his curious nature, his perception and way of detecting hidden things throughout small lines of dialogue and small gestures. The observer has the job of being awed by everything, the truth, the lies, the bad, the good and the ugly. He must find sense and sensibility in everyone and everything, he must understand everyone and watch over everyone. No matter their size or status, their brilliant ideas and minds or stupidity, everyone is worth equal in his eyes. But one thing I know about the observer nothing beats beauty, the beauty of a mind, of a person, animal, nature or universe. Seeing as chaos creates everything and each and every one of us, the power that holds the universe to help us exist and be. And the way we repay the universe back makes no sense to an observer, through hate, stupidity, envy, loathing, selfishness. Brings darkness, darkness that isn't brought by the universe, but which we create. Thus the sadness of a observer, when he sees the beauty and potential, he sees destruction brought by the ones he sees the most potential in being beautiful. Which is exactly why he has this journal of every thought, every hope, showing people every wrong move they make and shows them that there is another way, I have heard only stories of such a journal, even thought I myself am an observer. But I might dare to some day find it and learn from it myself.

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Finding a step to step on

I have a problem, I am stuck again. It's disturbing me to the core.

I have this problem, you see. Where I know what I am supposed to do, yet all of my being says I have to be and do otherwise. This inability to focus and do, frustrates me. In the need for fresh air and something new, I look towards nowhere. It hurts and it's bad, when you take steps trying to keep your morals in checks. Yet getting wind blown in your face and a harsh tone whistling with it. As I am stuck in this dammed routine that bores the fuck out of me. Trying to break out, I act like a child in need for attention, when no one bothers and no one cares to listen to my unbridled thoughts. Yet that wouldn't be my problem, as much as no one cares to understand where it all comes from and why. So I struggles with my thoughts and process as I try to evolve and do something else, when I have no avenue of doing what I wish for. Just as much as I am afraid to take the next step, knowing what awaits me. So I try to find a comfortable soothing place to understand myself and work towards my next place to be. Yet if it was easy, everyone would do it. So I try to keep it simple, keep it safe, but not too far from damnation. 

They say that making the first step towards your dream is all that matters, yet when you take the second and third. You see that no one moves an inch to what you are trying to do, scares me, it would scare you too. So you try to find quick plan b's and c's and so on and so forth you try and go. But to where? When you fight for your voice, but all you get is a nuisance to deal with.

They say that legends are those that do the extraordinary, but when your appearance is ordinary, your complex simple and your ideas have the appearance of sticking in the ordinary, people do not look at you. It's like trying to fight the wind by pissing against it. You're the moron that's going to have to explain to people why you're wet and ashamed for what you tried to do. So when you swear it won't happen again, you start building walls around, a roof over your head. The result is the same, you're doing what everyone's doing, and quite soon, you're up in your ass. Having lost the touch with the real world and living in a fantasy. You became what many are, all that genius lost, all because now you're full of shit.

So what can one do to avoid all this? Well, again... They say that one must take the bull by the horns, must take life head on, must take it as it is and face it all. But as I am here, there's nothing to take on. I have to go around and sucker punch the world in the nards in order to get some attention. Attention usually greeted by backlash and fury. Which would be fine, if it weren't for the fact that it just stops to that backlash.

Here I stand, angry, flustered, trapped and with my mind in a bind as I try to find a way to unwind.

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Belief

Wish upon

A star?

I want to, believe me. I want to believe that humans are beautiful, that we all can live in peace and that we can prosper to something greater. And I'd love us to do that, to become something that we can be proud of. A world without armed conflict, without poverty, with manners, with some thought and with kindness. But the truth is, I'm never going to see that. I'm never even going to make a few people believe in this. Because people will never have enough belief in what we can do, in what we can become. And this is rather sad...

I wish I wouldn't hate people, but their absolute lack of behaviour, their rudeness, their thoughtless actions, their lack of empathy. It makes me angry. I can't stand it. The hypocrisy of it all... It's too much. In a world where we have free access to all the information we have, in a world where if you took a second to look around, you'd see how you should change to make an impact. We keep doing the same shit over and over again. How? How can I excuse you for those actions? When you act high and mighty, yet you fail at it yourself? How is this even possible? Yet you ask me for something more, when you can't even do the little I do for you... That 'hello', 'good night', 'have a nice day'... If you can't do at least that... Why should I care for anything else from you?

This is the part where instead of bitching, I'm giving you an alternative, a solution. Because I still believe in the world that was described at the beginning of this post. So, if you at any point didn't say a 'hello', 'please', 'thank you', or if you acted rude, were a cunt or attacked someone for no reason... Stop it, take a fucking second to think about what you're saying or how you are acting. If you for some reason can't, go to therapy, get help, talk to your friends about this. Or find new friends if they are the problem. If you want to help your friends, send them this link.

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My Motivation

I believe that everyone has some motivation when it comes to their choice in acting a certain way, so here are mine.

We all want something, we all have desires. Things we don't agree with or want to change, something that might bothers us or see unfit for the world that we live in. Or just maybe there are things that stand in our way, in what we want and thing we ought to achieve. So we tear through others, we rig the system in our favor, we manipulate others to achieve our own goal and happiness. What a sad, pathetic thing to do. While for some this might seem as a sign of power and determination, I see it as a move of a coward that has no dignity. Yet I'm not one to talk, I can't. This whole thing about being powerful without a righteous claim to it, only by the law of the jungle seems unfit. Especially for the species that regards itself to be intelligent, sociable and above all else. So then, what is my motivation? What do I desire? What do I want to achieve? How do I want to achieve it?

My motivation is freedom, and I am not talking about the freedom that any citizen thinks he has in a democratic country. I am talking about doing whatever I want and affording whatever I desire, not being held down and held back by anything. I want to be able. This might sound crazy since I have no disability, and people would interpret things in such way that they can find something inherently wrong with anything. As for the other two questions, the answer is pretty simple. I want a better world, I want better education for everyone. I want a better quality of life, I want equality, I want more stability and more thoughtful people. And for the how, well that's a bit more complicated.

I want to write, to continue writing. I want to publish as many books as I can and write them all in a week if possible. Yet here we have the first problem, I cannot do that. I work because I have to work, I study because I have to study, I have to do these things that keep me trapped from what I want to do full time and renounce the rest. So thus my motivation and what do I desire becomes much more clearer. As to why I want what I want to achieve, the motive is simple enough. I'm an idealist, not to be confused with a perfectionist, a perfectionist will do everything in their power to make it as it was asked or as it is supposed to be in the system that is in place. An idealist on the other hand is someone that tries to find ways to improve the environment around him and for others, always in search for an ideal. So in order to do what I want to achieve, I want to give people other options, I want them to think, to see outside the box. Even if I am prone to failure from the very beginning, due to the modern human's mindset. I want others to be free, like I want to be free, I don't wish others to crumble at my feet. I want to give others like me the same chance and inspire them to take it and push ahead. 

I am not a coward nor am I brave, I just might be stupid enough to try and do something else. This dude does not want to abide.

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