In Random

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

There is a struggle between to write or to read. The senses have been battling whether to burst out your own sundry emotions or to take in emotional spurts as you leaf through the pages of another man's story. The heart is in demand of both. Which will you choose?

To think or not to think. Inevitably, the brain is incapable of malfunctioning. Unless you want to be dead. Or to be mentally inoperative. But to keep yourself from thinking of the shoulda-woulda-coulda's. Damn, really driving you nuts. To live life to the fullest will be the greatest remedy. To forget that the word REGRET even exists.

To love or to hate. There's a very thin line that separates four letters, that only sets its boundaries with its last commonality. 'E'.. for EMOTIONS. that both are genuine emotions, that can one can draw the conclusion to which side he has fallen into until physically acknowleding the situation. Feelings can never be dreamt, imagined, or even justified without confronting it. Even if it is surreal to even find words to encompass the true meaning of it, the truth beyond what the heart is beating can only be acknowledged upon sincere acceptance.. that you have fallen to love, or crashed upon hate.

I have then realized that in my defenses, I have come to incur contradiction to put myself into deep exasperation of masochism. That in arguments, I am beginning to feel that I am gaining more knowledge, and that I can build up my own view points towards a specific idea. And that to argue (without physical contact) and stress your brain from stretching its nerves to come up with bursts of ideas for the heck of contradicting, has brought me that relief that my brain is still working. Haha. Freak. However, now I am beginning to confuse myself to which side I'm really into. I am not somewhere in the middle. Neither at the positive or at the negative. I am like a limitless and directionless contradiction flowing against through both ends of infinity. I am posting another conflict, is this just me with "specific men"?

I have to stop. The room is now filled with strangers. Only through solitude I could embrace my indefinite comfort for words.

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