Find yourself in chaos—and embrace it.
Learn to love the faults of yourself and others.
Learn to love those who mock, spit on, and laugh at you—because even they are human.
Tell yourself that they meant no harm.
This will take a lifetime of practice and even when you lay peacefully on your deathbed, you will still not be satisfied.
But it’s alright, squeeze all that you can out of life and leave it content.

I’ve been thinking a lot of death and society lately.
Do not misunderstand—I have not been contemplating to actually engage with death (though I know the day will come, where I must set aside my pride.)

But I’ve been thinking about how death is so unfair—and I can’t do anything about it.
Death can take the life of an 85 year old grandfather who finally found contentment when his wife’s in his arms, his children look at him with mature and understanding eyes, and his grandchildren give him tight hugs. Death can take something too precious to be exposed to this sinful life—a child before it is even given chance to live this challenge we call life. Death can take two teenagers who are anxiously hand in hand on their first date as they drive down the highway to only find themselves lying on broken glass next to each others cold bodies.

Death is this approaching shadow that lingers on your lips, eyes, lashes, toes, smile.

Society.
Society is the adaptation of death.
Always shaping, lingering, and pestering you—never will you be at ease with society as your model life to live.
Society superficially classifies individuals as if they were products in a grocery store.
A heart shape drawn on my hand as I sit in my decal thinking about all of this.

Yes, I’m well aware—I’m weird.
Look me in the eyes and tell me that.
At least then I’ll know that I am not letting society shape, linger, and pester me…
Oh yes…I am naive—because society’s toll is inevitable; just like death.
It approaches us all—interjects just when we are at our best, it comes and reaps the benefits—like someone stealing the bobas once you’ve finished your drink…Yep..just like that.

I mean look at Emily Dickinson—always wrote about death..and then finally it took her. Unfortunate—one of the best poets to have lived, in my opinion.


April22,2010;1206am

the concept of time and life and death and society keeps me attentive.

How is that I am this bridge between the past, present, and future?

This is the best time to figure out the rest of my life.