Life is hard! (Part un)

Struggle is life’s middle name

If everyone could do it, we would all be quantum physicists 

An end goal does not a journey make

There’s no certain course to winning/success. See “The alchemist”

Effort ≠ reward. 

There’s no guarantee that your efforts will yield positive outcomes. Just because you put your all in it, will not make you a winner. Same thought. Different wording.

Be good for goodness’ sake prepares you for the fact that your efforts more likely than not will not be rewarded, acknowledged or appreciated.

Investments come with risks. Prepare for your losses as much as your wins. 

Is it winning if you’ve failed to achieve? Again, see “The alchemist”

There’s not a 1-1 correlation in life, relationships, endeavors…

Life has more negatives, pain,  than not. This is why people accentuate the positive. Positive is NOT the norm. Positive takes effort. 

If it takes effort, it is not “natural”.

Life sucks. Deal with it. The sooner you accept that, the more accepting you will be when confronted with the reminder

Most people are not rich, only in their minds

Most people aren’t happy ergo the fake it ‘till you make it motto

Happiness is an illusion, people the illusionists (insert platitude)

How do you know you made it when it’s not yet the end? The end  is the ultimate 

Happiness is as fleeting as people’s emotions

Most people just make do

Most people don’t have everything they’ve ever wanted or worked hard for, again: no guarantee (insert platitude)

If you knew in advance it would lead to pain, despair, a divorce, you’re a masochist 

Find what you value, seek it with every breath, otherwise life will suck even more

People will always put themselves first, even those being abused. It comes down to values

Shoving positivity down people’s throat promotes escapism (e.g.: addictions, alcohol, drugs, sex, gaming, sports etc…)

It is easier to fall prey to addictions than accept/face reality/facts

Effort is lauded, acceptance condemned.

Hope is a fallacy

Hope is opium

Hope is a fairytale

In my head!

No more

No more

I don’t wish for more

I don’t want any more

No more tomorrows. 

Tomorrows are the same yesterdays

Over and over

Same Schlick 

Turn, turn on a wheel

Moving and going nowhere

Tomorrow is wasted on me

I don’t want to be here anymore

Life on repeat

Same endless refrain 

A soliloquy on silent tongue

It’s not good to be alone

It’s even worse being alone in a crowd

You remain there so you could feel like you’re a part of something 

When you don’t even matter

If you leave, no one will take note

You only exist in your thoughts

Stand still

Take hold

You’re here but not here

So what else can tomorrow bring when everyday is just the same!

What could change what has been

When being is all there is 

Is life even worth living!

Yes. No. 

No more tomorrows

No more 

No more

No more tomorrows

When tomorrows are yesterdays on steroids 

Just because!


No one ever speaks on the ordinary, on the everyday, on never making it, on the hardships, the setbacks, the failings.

In truth, there are more of those out there, than there are successes. Maybe that’s why there is so many definitions of success. They may not be in the dictionary, but each person has made one his or hers. Why you may ask? For the simple reason that most don’t reflect the real meaning of success, which is attainment of one’s aims and prosperity.

Are we all props per ours? I see this not. Have we all attained our aims? Definitely not. We may achieve one but not all. One may say that achieving one aim, one is successful. But we all know we as beings tend to have more than one aim in life. Some will narrow it to having a sense of purpose, or to exude or receive love, or be at peace. In such a narrowing, everything else is muted. For in their minds, if at the end of their life’s travails the single aim is reached, it makes it easier to feel one has achieved success.

Why don’t we speak more on failings, or the reality that plans tend not to amount to much or dreams come to fruition! Is it to subdue hopelessness? Hope merchants are restless. On every corner, at every turn the same story “hope”, as if hope is the answer to it all. It stirs, galvanizes but tends to amount to naught but wasted strength and time. I say time for if it were not spent in pursuit instead of expanding on the now, one would be closer to knowing and accepting. Why pursue when you can be in the now?

The waiting game

I don’t know what I’m waiting for exactly, but in the pit of my stomach I sense something’s missing or is to come. It’s neither one more than the other really. It’s not foreboding or anxiety. It isn’t  emptiness either. The feeling keeps growing and growing. It’s not a destination as if I’m heading to a place, to something or someone.

I’m trying to pinpoint how it came to be, delving into the present, filling my head with questions, prodding, seeking for the answer. In every song, an intent, every show, a response, all driving me closer or assist in peeling layers. 

This quest brings me back to the idea he once posited. Am I bound to certainty? Is this why I seek answers, meanings, ends to beginnings, “aha moments”? Am I really in the present of time that keeps on moving? If you ask me, I am more present than lost in the past, nor too concerned about a future. In my mind, it’s always the present. 

The future exists in the mind of the young, solidified by purpose  and rooted in goals. Am I lost in the present? Can one lose oneself with what is, right at this moment? Maybe I’ve always been this way, once I’ve weighed consequences and swept away foreboding?

How interesting has it been when you have nowhere to go, no one to go to with no end in sight. That’s it. Could it be? Could it be that’s what the wait is about: finding where to go and who to run to. What if none can compare or erase the feeling? Will that evaporate if those were never to be found? 

What am I in wait for? I am not waiting. It feels I am in wait, like it’s a station and I am there, holding a spot, unmoved, expectant. 

What is it you’re in wait of? Why does it matter? How will you know when it comes? 

The only time it tends to fade is when I’m in nature, surrounded by wind and leaves, water and beasts. Their beauty overtakes and overwhelms: quietude.



We fall in love with what we see reflected.

Maybe I’m the only one. The way you look at me, perceive me, define me, I must like. It should make me feel good, sometimes even better than I may feel at a particular time.

It’s difficult seeing a stranger, someone I don’t see in me reflected back at me. Who’s that stranger? Is that perception? Why do you perceive me in this light? It hurts even more when it is from someone whom you know for years, someone who I feel I’ve opened up to so much, spent time explaining my ways, my thoughts, why I do the things I do.

Do you really see me? And even if you say you love me, because I don’t know that person you’re describing, I take it as fact, you are not speaking about me nor can possibly be you loving me. That’s not me. It’s this conjecture of your own interpretation. I feel betrayed, unheard.