I have a throbbing headache.

Pea dust and moronic thought patterns gradually kill all intelligence to speak of.

The world is so goddamn easy to figure out.

And yet, with an understanding of the nature of humanity, I still struggle to listen to the voice that makes the most sense.

As though there is something to learn through human suffrage.

Suffrage that exists on the basis of trying to figure out matters that will do nothing in furthering my own existence, or increase my will to live.

It's like what that line in the famous Eagles song suggests;

Us all being prisoners of our own device.

If you take a step back and observe everything from a distance, then it is undeniable that the world is separated.

Separated, that is, by two different types of people.

Those who seek freedom, and those who seek control.

That is why everyone is constantly at odds.

Because the individuals who desire nothing more then to be free will always manage to cross paths with those who want nothing more then to take that freedom away.

Mandela knew this.

So did Muhammad Ali.

And Martin Luther King Jr.,

he gave a famous speech about standing up against this.

For all the racists out there.

Being those who cringe upon being reminded about the existence of African Americans.

I apologize for mentioning three black men in repetition of one another as examples of men who retaliated against human suffrage.

I just read a play by August Wilson and thought the motherfucker had some mad skills when it came to play-writing.

Or, in the words of Denzel Washington through the character he portrayed in Training Day wound say...

"August Wilson... My Nigger!"

Life is art. Even the most briefest, insignificant of moments can contain some beauty. From the kiss of a beautiful woman to the crashing of cars after midnight, the same amount of passion can be found in a moment of existence that could be comparable to the greatest work of art by Leonardo da Vinci or Pablo Picasso. To compare life to art means to view the world as a canvas. All the people you meet, from the most lively, selfless of individuals to the most grotesque and insane, the colors are slowly added to the canvas as the faces come into view, creating an image of not just your life, but of all lives. To put things simply, a human being is never just one thing, but instead, is a combination of everything. Good and bad, ugly and beautiful, every goddamn thing experienced by any and all individuals exists within each and every one of us. Life is art and until humanity as a whole comes to an end, the canvas of life will be eternally incomplete.

In life, death is the only inevitability.

As for everything else, it's all a matter of choice.

Human error also plays a part in the turmoil that we create for ourselves.

In short, we create our reality.

Either for the better, or for the worse.

It's possible to reach a level of tranquility.

Of enlightenment.

But for this to occur, we must see the world for what it is.

All the trivialities that we build purpose around.

When it is all for nothing.

To feel the pressure escape from your head, and in it's place, a weightlessness.

This is when you know you are on your way to a higher existential plane.

When all the fear, anger, and bitterness seems irrelevant, and in a way, nonexistent.

This is when we finally realize the power that we contain from within.

When our spirit awakens from what once felt like an endless slumber.

And for the first time we realize that we are alive.

With nothing to worry about, and nothing to prove.

This is a day that all our troubles fade into obscurity,

and the day we finally find peace in life.

The magic exists upon birth.

Then, as time marches forward, it wears down.

Usually, not through mistakes that you make,

but instead, through the selfishness of those around you.

At times, people will latch onto you and attempt to suck your life force dry.

Don't let them.

Don't.

Let.

Them.

In the end, we all have our purpose.

Our reason for existence.

And our mind is the only thing that has the potential of saving us.

If we allow somebody to break us, then it doesn't matter what we did,

if anything in the end to deserve the hell that they have in store for us.

We must protect ourselves against the evil of this world.

We must teach our mind to work with us, not against us.

He lived life through a looking glass;

A mirage of the future stained by the past.

His day to day existence became trivial.

He'd masturbate, occasionally fuck, go to work, eat, shit, piss,

then he'd go to bed before waking up and doing it all over again.

He made mental notes of the stupidity of the world around him.

And how his own stupidity played a part in the steady decay which was his life.

He hated seldom and found that people were drawn to him.

Especially women who seemed to be magnetized to his effortless personality and charm.

The little things got to him, and caused an inner madness.

Some people he just wanted to escape from,

but he often found it difficult to do so.

He thought about killing, like everyone.

Felt fear, like everyone.

Fantasized about fucking countless women, like almost everyone.

And yet, he found little point to his own existence.

The world, to him, seemed to be a toilet bowl full of poison and treachery

that didn't deserve to be praised or saved.

But instead, deserved to be flushed along with him and his own trivial existence.And yet, day after day he woke up with the idea imprinted in his mind that there was no point to anything, just to do it all over.  

There's an extraordinary power behind words, especially the one's we repeat to ourselves internally. Words have both the power to strengthen and inspire, or to weaken and demobilize. Be cautious what you repeat to yourself. It could mean the difference between a life well lived, or an avoidable death which came much too soon.

Suffering and pain are both creations of the mind. They never really exist, unless we tell ourselves that they <em>do</em> exist. In turn, giving these ultimately pointless delusions power over our being.&nbsp;

The world around us is all a mirage, a delusion. At times that we feel a disconnect from reality, it is often because&nbsp;our minds eye has to continuously convince us&nbsp;that the world around us is really there. Otherwise, the world itself would be pointless in meaning.&nbsp;&nbsp;

When most people have kids, they have this delusional idea that when their children grow up, that they'll surpass them in every way imaginable. This, however, proves to be a road to disappointment when faced with the end result being children, who grew up to be&nbsp;adults who resemble the&nbsp;worst&nbsp;portions that their parents showcased, instead of their potential best had they been raised in a more stable and constructive environment. In the end, most&nbsp;people eventually grow up to&nbsp;become the same, flawed individual.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Echoes play&nbsp;like an endless symphony,

But&nbsp;rarely the things&nbsp;I want to hear.

Like a barrage of gunfire on a windless night,

Or a thunderstorm when alone at sea.

Why is it that we allow the bad to overshadow the good?

Is there a reason,&nbsp;or is it plain deception?

Lies that have been told to us throughout time

that we give a pulse every time we pay them attention.

Like the belief that someone is out to get you,

Or that death is just a beat of the drum away.

What I've found, through my time here, is that I have two-selves.

The first self,&nbsp;who is intelligent, confident, loving, caring, charismatic,

oozing in creativity and unlimited potential.

A&nbsp;man who fears nothing except fear itself.

And then there's&nbsp;my other self;

A man consumed by fear, who worries time and time again about nothing,

Lets down his family, and is afraid to defend himself when the occasion arises.

This is the&nbsp;part of me, the devil in disguise,

Who I dread more then anything.

The part that becomes weakened&nbsp;

by an irrational belief that I owe everyone who's ever doubted me something.

When deep down, my stronger self explains to the weaker self at every turn

That the only thing I owe anyone who's ever doubted me

is nothing&nbsp;other then becoming the best version of myself possible,

Instead of the&nbsp;undeniable&nbsp;worst.

As humans, I believe there's a god and devil within each one us.

The God, constantly attempting to build us up,

To make us proud of ourselves and our accomplishments,

Making us appreciate that we're here on Earth and ultimately, that we're alive.

The devil, like an agitating pest who won't leave you alone

Will&nbsp;try to break you down every time you let your guard down,

Will play off your fears like clockwork,

And will undermine everything you've worked tirelessly to achieve.

What I've found is that neither God or the Devil,

within each of&nbsp;us will ever&nbsp;disappear&nbsp;completely.

God will&nbsp;always be there to raise us up.

And like a mosquito that&nbsp;knows our every move before we make it,

the devil will always be there to bring us back down.

In the end, I guess it's all up to us in deciding

which will ultimately become our dominant voice.

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