Society Is All But Rude

I haven't written on here for a while for fear of completely and literarily losing my shit. So many things about the world I live in right now make me angry. Whilst I am the protagonist of my own life I, unlike Andrew Marvell's Gardener, do not believe myself to be the protagonist of others'.

The Sad Truth

'I dream of a world where flags are nothing but cloth and the only thing that matters is love, life and freedom. Where the bottom line doesn't determine life and we aren't defined by income bracket, a pretty house, faith, a lack thereof or a fucking degree.
Where we think before we act and act before we critique. Where we think about who is next and make it cleaner than how we found it. Where we mean what we say and only say what we mean and where ideals are meant to better ourselves and where we aren't afraid to say "I can't". Where "sorry" is a liberating word and "thank you" comes from the heart and where we don't just watch but we decide to act.
Where we refuse to live only until its time to die. Where feelings and desires mean more than quotas, expectations and disappointed stares. Where we have a right to hurt, scream, cry, live, die and sit in silence just because we fucking can.
I dream of a world where I can love you in spite of what keeps us apart and where second best is as good as first or a millionth. where we don't over analyze every breath or under appreciate what our words mean to another. Where we find comfort in silence and a place of peace in all of the noise and where everything that is thrown at us makes us better, stronger and more appreciative.
Where we celebrate life, death and all that comes in between. Where songs sing to us and a loved ones' words make us dance. Where what we see in a mirror is a happy, satisfied and fulfilled individual and where we feel bad about how we look at others and not just because of how others look at us.
I dream of a world where I can love you, where I can feel you and where I can know you without having to own you, without having to hate you or without having to fuck you. A world where I can love you, where I can feel you, where I can know you. Know you without having to own you, without having to hate you, without having to fuck you. Without having to fuck you in more ways than one. Without having to own you, without having to hate you, without having to fuck you in more ways than one.
Where a smile isn't a rare gift and where sadness isn't a curse and where the two together make life worth living. Where media doesn't define friend or foe and doesn't tell me how to look, how to feel, how to act and how to live. Where a flower, a smile, a thought, a touch, a smell makes it all worth it and the hardest words are nothing but poetry that spills from our mouth.'

Existentialism Continued...

Every essay I ever have the intention of completing always seems like some kind of contingency before I actually get it finished. I've given up with physical 'to-do' lists as my theoretical and mentally contained list of activities I have yet to complete seems to be not only eternal but consistently shape-shifting like a Ditto that I'm never going to catch in a Pokeball.

The passport was created in Britain with the intention of allowing any British holder to go wherever they chose without objection. Whilst the country still maintains the arrogance to think it's top dog, my intentions of working in America this summer are consistently impeded by Visas, social security, work insurance and generally this notion I appear to get as a traveller that unless I'm desiring to further spoil any of the Spanish/Greek isles or go somewhere in the common wealth then I'm generally not welcome.

As you can tell, my current ability to feel drastically sorry for myself is still in vivacious motion.