I like to think that there are facts and we must live by them, truths that exist that we cannot ignore. The sky is black, filled with all of your deepest fears and hatreds, shadowing the creatures of the night. The sky is red, bright intensity from a new or fleeing sun, Apollo spreading his flames across the world. The sky is white, fluffy clouds contorted in various shapes, all of which society loves to construe the abstract. The sky is grey, with storm clouds a brewing and gusts whistling through the trees. That nice baby blue, a soothing blue, something pleasant to gaze at. I would also be willing to bet that most people would respond with blue. What color is the sky? You know, the ceiling above your head when you are outside? This stems from my philosophy, and will lead to another chapter of my evolution. I am sorry to say that while at work, I tried to come up with the genius that I experienced last night, but it proved difficult.įret not, though, I have recovered most of what I came up with, and although I wanted to express it in a poem format, I will just give it to you straight up. I thought of this last night, and I was so excited to have something to talk about that it was difficult to sleep.
I for one would definitely start up my world domination, but hell, that's just me. Just think, that a near omnipotent being were to suddenly speak with you, and give you just a fraction of his proliferating power. But why does it have to be that way? Just because he couldn't exist on our world does not mean he could not exist in our universe, a parallel universe, or on our timeline somewhere else. Basically, I conjured this being from my imagination. I am not him, and he is not me, but I wish it was that way. Well, that may cause a time paradox, but it would still be pretty damn cool.Īnyways, taking this principle, I think about the scenario of meeting him. Does that make me strong, or just plain stupid?Įver think to yourself that if you believe really hard in time travel, that you from the future will visit you and help you? You know, like you think to yourself that you will dedicate yourself to time travel, and that your future self would know exactly when to come back in time to help you out. I am Atlas, and I bear the weight of the world on my back. Sometimes I wonder about my existence in this world, and how utterly meaningless it all really is. A man who thinks without any reference to any box, a man who dreams dreams no person could imagine, a man who fights the good fight, my fight. For I am a man of passion, not superficial conformity. The speeches of love and hatred come out of me like water out of a fountain. You know when it comes, because the rants just start flowing. I feel most alive when my friends egg me on and bring out the best/worst of me. And no one else except me can understand that. Yeah, sure, I plan on marriage and having a family, but. I think I will die never once being truly connected to someone. Us introverts, we can have a party of one and be right as rain. Extroverts are too lazy to please themselves so they go seek for others to entertain them. I think that is the difference between introverts and extroverts.
The only thing that keeps me going is constant stimulation. The corruption, greed, despair, poverty, hunger, destruction. Hell, no one cares to understand my art or appreciate my wordplay or take note of my dreams. Nobody gives a damn about what I have to say, and hey, maybe that's for the best too. It is boring.Īrgument and conversation are necessary for ideas to be mulled into something greater. Or maybe it is because no one responds to what I say, no one argues with what I believe in. Or maybe I am at the point where a written document of my mind would not do justice of my feelings, and that face to face interaction is required to convey my being appropriately. Maybe I have reached the point where I could go deeper, but the information I uncover is far too painful for others to know. All my emotions are, for the time being, quelled, suppressed. Not overtly happy or zealous, but not sad or miserable either. At this very moment in time, I feel content. It was exhilarating putting down my thoughts, not having to bear the stress by myself.īut then again, the more I found myself, the less and less I had to say. It seems that the purpose of this blog has achieved its purpose.
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