Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Some Thoughts

A letter to illustrate my thoughts:

Dear Person of Undisclosed Identity,

I do not like you. Why? you may ask. Well, your flaws are many, and I will describe them:

I find that you irritate me and do yourself injustice by making life choices of questionable wisdom. You don't treat other people or yourself with any respect, you are rude to everyone you come in contact with, you are to my ears unnecessarily loud, and your insatiable desire for attention is unhealthy. You act as if you're better than everyone else, and yet I know you to be terribly insecure-- and other people can see it when you call them a "fat*ss" or other such expletive. You are ungrateful and inconsistent. And while we're at it, yes, I do think you're kind of stupid. I can find no positive feature in you. I know it's not my opinion that matters, but all the same, you annoy me to no end.

And yet, I know that somewhere out there is someone to whom you are the whole world, or will be someday. To someone, you are the very epitome of goodness and rightness, the best of anything the universe has to offer. You'll sweep them off their feet with some quality that I have not the wisdom or patience to see. You'll fall madly in love, because everyone in the world deserves true love, whether it comes sooner or later. To someone, you will be the greatest love of their life and they'll remember you until the day they die. For them, all of creation revolves around you. You are everything to someone.

And in the hopes that someday I may find someone to whom I am everything, I will be nice to you. For the sake of love, that purest of emotions, I will treat you with respect.

                                                                            Love, Lissa

Perhaps I'm relying too much on the idea of karma. But still, I'll always try to respect others and love everyone unconditionally. Because everyone matters. Even you matter, thought there are those in the world, certainly, who would disagree on that point. Though it may be the most impossible thing for you to imagine, for every disgusting human being almost undeserving of the title, there is another who is willing to love them just the way they are. There is someone on this earth who is forgiving enough of other people's flaws that they are willing to overlook them and continue loving this most unfortunate creature. Or maybe you are just not forgiving enough of flaws to accept someone who is, in reality, a perfectly adequate person, and there is someone who is forgiving enough to love YOU. How will you ever know?

And in conclusion, I want to be true-ly loved someday by someone. Actually, I wouldn't be opposed to being true-ly loved by someone today. Perhaps I am, and simply don't know it! But in order to preserve my chance at love, I will give love to everyone else, so that when the right fellow comes along, he'll know it's me right away.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

I RETURN, MY SUBJECTS

OHEEMGEE It's been so darn long since I posted on here! Of course, as I expected, I got bored with blogging, but today I stumbled across the bookmark for it on the old laptop, and thought, "Why not resume blogging?"

Now, it must be admitted that this is a dangerous thought, and I immediately dismissed it for this very reason. But eventually it was agreed upon by my internal voices that we could blog once more for fun, but only because everyone is gone. Not, of course, that I had a terrible amount of views in the first place.

Anyways, here I am! What have I been up to? you ask. Well, I'll tell you.

My last post was in April, and I have since resumed attending public school (to my great regret) ... (okay, so that's a lie. I really am glad I came back to school, because now I have friends!). I have... wow. I just realized, that's the most conventionally interesting aspect of my life for the last eight months. Sure, lots of other interesting stuff has happened, but none of it would I be willing to share with even my closest friends.

I have taken up writing again as a hobby. Narrative writing, that is. It's been a very long time since I was struck by the desire to tell a story in writing, but just lately I have found words flowing from my pen (a metaphorical pen; I do most of my writing on the computer because I type faster than I write) with ease. Well, more ease than they used to, anyway. I don't really think I want to pursue writing as a career, but there's nothing else fighting for the position of Top Job, except drawing. And really, what person of my meager talents could make a living off of just drawing whatever I want? I'm not being modest; while I haven't posted all of my drawings on here, you could probably tell from the few I have that my work could not be satisfactory even to myself. And it isn't, no sir.

But now I'm getting depressed. Poop.