Of what you have thought,
Perhaps the evilest to think of—
Write it in a book
And savor each stroke of words;
Ponder how it reflects truth.
For the time being
Lock it in secrecy—
No one has to thole the harsh
Of your mind’s rage toward earth.
Save it for later,
Wait ’til your sea calms,
Or dust it to forgotten.
It may then be
Fury into wisdom,
Caught in discovery—
One could learn a thing or two;
Leave the world alone to know,
Let humanity wonder.
Nowadays, people find it more easy to be swayed by emotions and tend to forget to pause, take a moment and carefully think of the words before it comes out of their mouth. There certainly is nothing wrong with voicing opinions out—I think it’s a very powerful tool to let the whole world know about the beauty of each individual’s concerns. But being eaten by heavy emotions, say anger, can affect most of what we intend to tell. And there’s a consistent mismatch between ideas solely from our minds, and emotions that we feel.
I notice that social media is the common outlet whenever we desire to burst out of the bubble we are contained within for so long. I suggest it would be better to keep delicate thoughts to ourselves first, write it somewhere, let it rest for a few hours or days, and reflect on it whether the nagging thoughts still have the same intensity as we initially sought. In that way, not only do we spare ourselves from any further stress, but also saves a lot of people from the potential heated/negative arguments it could create.
Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.
– Groucho Marx
I once had a conversation with someone who loves reading and has a great potential to creative writing, but the person was so reluctant into figuring out how to enrich that talent; the same thing I had felt years before I even go out and build a blog and start publishing stuff, because the idea of not being good enough frightens me. The thought of my works not being good enough for readers scares me. And no one, I’m pretty much sure of that, no one likes rejection. Whether it be for their opinion, idea or craft.
Memories. Childhood memories. Forgotten friendships. People. Life changing events. Memories are the yesterday of today and the future. Memories are the only truth of what had become. And we all have something that keeps us from doing whatever at the moment and stare into the void of space, looking back the good (or bad) days.
Change is as funny and corny as the old saying goes you can never find true love with the wrong person, but isn’t as complex as it shouldn’t be. We insist it on a stranger standing next to us in a bus station. Demanding it on the people governing office and power, a halo we bestowed right over their heads, and when the time comes of their corruption we cry our ass out and file for their impeachment and proclaim another shithead for the same position. But we do not reach it deep within ourselves—not within our souls.
Aren’t we tired of the same destruction—racism, weapons, wars, pollution—which destroys the young, the innocent, the kind disposition?
If we want something, shan’t we become the torch of inspiration that motivates a whole damn nation to interfere against the destruction we ourselves once started, and finally put an end to hypocrisy and malevolent only we invented. The truth is change is never in action if we put it upon the grace of other people. But what’s even truer is that none of our half have come to realize the truth yet, and none of us at all have decided to put it upon themselves—otherwise there would have been serenity and prosperity in every corner of the street. In the end change is only an idea, and it will remain as is without our will and action. We will never find it with the person standing next to us nor the person we elect in the office. Stop complaining and start doing something.
Next week is the last of summer vacation, technically for those who had real summer vacation but I for one spent it mostly in a claustrophobic room of my summer class. That’s how I’d been spending vacations in the past two years, which makes me a bit sad because I probably would never, again, enjoy vacations at its extent when I graduate and start working.