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I was taught, I had to feel certain things to be accepted, and speak certain words to be accepted. But I was neither allowed to feel the appropriate feelings, nor speak the appropriate words. So even all these years later, I don't feel very accepted. But nonetheless there are things to do, ways to fill time.
I suppose, you could look at everything around you and see death. And in some ways that is all there is, an endless striving for death. And misleading each other by vainly calling it life. But in other ways, I see a great hope. Maybe like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Nothing here is what it seems. I really believe that, with all my heart.
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