“be the change you want to see in the world”

http://www.whydontyoutrythis.com/2013/10/the-man-who-lives-without-money.html

Hitting a wall

What's the point on writting my stuff on the internet, who cares, people have enough with their own stuff, never going too far, if that could bring me money i will do it now, enlighten the world with my stories, but that's not in my vein to ask for, people should get what is worth what.

It's easier to say i love you to people i don't really care for.

Isn't it logical when being rejected by someone you like is way more painful when you dwell in the unconsciousness of your own identity... but someone with absolute faith is his own self doesn't need anyone anymore. That self that can be self created heartless or really drown into beingness and simple acceptance of what is, must you be poor, alone, and crippled.

Death takes everything from you except who you truly are.

From time to time i meet a social worker, we are getting accustomed to each other and i'm quite familiar with her now, i smile when i see her wearing high heels and a short straight skirt while she must be around fifty.
Today she made me wait for another thirty minutes in the waiting room, when finally she introduced me in her office she appologized that was her fault for messing up several meetings and i said "That's ok i always have a book with me!", and then she became curious at the colorful cover and bent over her desk to read the title of the book that i had put on a chair near mine, so i picked it and showed it to her, she opened a notebook and scribbled the infos, the title, the editor, and the author, and i asked amused "why are you noting that?!" and she replied with a playful smile "Because it seems interesting i'm going to search it for myself." "What is it about?" she continued, taking time over the very matter we actually should be discussing, i said "Oh that's highly sexual, i wasn't expecting that, it's the human intimate relations from the point of view of cats, sort of, my sister lent it to me." I felt she was even more stirred and interested hearing that first detail, and finally we started our interview in that cheeky playful atmosphere. Eh eh!

Misery

I'm waiting for a girl who could cry in my arms listening to such songs.
Because if she gets this close in such a fragile moment that means she trusts me fully, and if she cries that means we feel the same way.
I'm waiting and that's my misery. (Because loving is dangerous to me.)

The style over the substance

Here's a piece of personal philosophy : i don't care carving poetic and convoluted sentences when i have something to say that i deem important, a point to make. I surely prefer to be clear, if there's something to learn from it, complex sentences and stylish efforts seem pompous to me and most people, as they're not in your brain to get its functioning, will skip the meaning and crucial message of your text. Words are bricks and writting is a frivolous game.