I'm here. I like starting on a positive note, and the very fact that my 'I'm here' should imply that I am well and live, with every limb in my body intact, at the very least, denotes positivism.
So, well, this place is not exactly Eden--it takes a long while to figure things out, but at least I am glad that I am no longer in the rut. I love this place, only minus people. There should be places without people, and this, coming from the socially non-challenged, extrovert who is known to possess more social skills than ever known, is frankly alarming. I've realized, perhaps too late, that there can be NO place without superficiality, and my question is, under all the clouds of smoke wreaked by joints and cigars (pardon me for not being able to differentiate a cigar from a cigarette), under all the alcohol fumes from vodka and whisky and brandy and blah, what lies? What exists? Isn't is just a void that yearns to be filled, the sense of insecurity, dissatisfaction? Then, why, why, why, why is it that the people who don't do it are branded as the freaks and are excluded from the social strata? Why is it that too much importance is attached to the most materialistic things there could be? There are too many things that elude me, that are beyond my comprehension, things that confound the hell out of me. The very fact that frivolity is chosen over sincerity, brawn over brains, the very fact that things that matter are shielded by the things that shouldn't, the fact that everything that should matter is facaded by curtains and curtains of ugly black. It is all of this that eludes me.
Why can't there be genuineness in every word spoken, kindness in every act done? Why can't idealism be, for once, chosen?
I am so tired of it all. If things don't turn out the way I hoped it would, I know I shall have the courage and the strength to face them. After all, I've seen the worst and this can, in no way, compare to what I've been through the past one year. But I shall hope, will hope.