(no subject)
I feel like i need to get something out of me. like water banging on the doors of the flood gates, letting them know that it won't wait any longer, so it should save itself the destruction and open now. im not sure why i feel this immense urge to write. perhaps because looking over old writing, i find that nothing applies to how im feeling now, in this moment, in this day or in this time in my life. usually i can look back at old scribbles and find something relevant to my current situation or at least inspiring in some way, but tonight i couldnt, so i start anew. i put new words out into the universe. i mark a virgin page and make it my own.
when people say, "i cannot believe the world we live in," i am always tempted to say, "you are part of it. you dont just live in it." the world is within us and it is made of what we are made of. simple collections and recipes of elements, perfectly (or imperfectly) beaten and whipped together like butter cream frosting, to form what we know as our universe. our own personal bubbles are nothing but figments of our imaginations and to believe or act as though the world is an outside place, something unrelated to and distant from us is to live in figment. but what if figment is safer? what if its easier to believe that the world is changing for the worse and that it was actually "good" at one point in time? what if it still is good and the fact that we all stop to wonder why it's changing is a sign of that? we have not yet become so desensitized to our planet's happenings that we no longer question why and when things will happen. are things really changing at all or has the evil just become more apparent within recent years, now that we are old enough to realize it? what if the people who existed before we were even an idea felt exactly what we felt and feared for our day, feared that the world may end before we that exist now got to see it? maybe now that we are no longer children, we are just coming to the realization that the world is a terrible place, or that it isnt. i refuse to believe that the world has gone wrong. i refuse to accept that my fluffy chocolate cake with butter cream humanity has a greasy boot print in it. if we choose to see the world in a way, the prophecy will fulfill itself. for the world to be good, we must believe that it is. for humanity to survive, we must believe that we can.