I sit down, trying to focus on what it is I want to convey, what it is I want to accomplish with the next dozen of lines, what it is I need to delve from my head and smear across pages, what it is that I think I know. Writing is this literal and verbal upheaval that almost cleanses your head. So in all those thoughts about what I’d say about life, about "my" life, about "their life", and "the life" I decided instead I'd write about .......
What is this secular obsession with perfection?
When did it become such a disaster to unveil your imperfection?
When did we commence to alter time and age?
Is this the change, or is this just a phase?
When did we all become judges?
When did our clothing start defining who we are?
When did our group of friends define our mindset?
When did we let media dictate our opinions on politics, world affairs and sports?
When did we all become so tuned in, that we literally became so tuned .......OUT?
It seems really that it’s more of us changing, than it is of the world changing.
The only way to change the world is to change the way we view it.
And it seems that most of us are too busy rushing through it to notice the incomprehensible damage we are causing our own futures.
So, I guess I’ll just stop, stare, marvel, and appreciate the little things.
Because tomorrow they will be gone
And we will still be rushing past
And I’m not ready to give up on today
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