untitled

do you ever have those moments when you feel like you should just sit down and write, and nothing else matters in the whole world? i do. but then again, i still feel meaningless when i do. its the absence of inspiration that does it, because my inspiration is myself, and i am so fucking insignificant. but i still have to do it. because i love it.

'being' is the greatest gift anyone can ask for. all things stem from that. if i 'weren't', who would i be? and what, then, would make me, well, 'me'? the answer 'isn't'. but since i am (since everyone 'is'), what makes us, well, 'us'? i can tell you that ten-thousand times and still feel legitimate each and every one. its the people we love that define who we really are. there is no standard by which to define a man save the one by which he judges others; love, in its simplest form, is the measure of all things. if you don't love, you simply 'aren't'. whether its an abstract 'god' you love, or just the people around you, the fact that you 'love' is what makes you something other than just 'homo sapiens'. Love makes us 'human'.

and, being the terribly cliche person that i often am, i love the world.

i don't believe that there is anything beyond this. i believe in nothing but humankind and our ability to adapt and change for the better. i believe in the love that i hold for other people. i believe in three hours spent sitting on a park-bench or up in a playground. i believe in sitting in a friend's car, driving the speed-limit because that is who we are. i believe in staying up all night and talking about meaningless things, and solving the world's problems while we do. i believe in coffee, in tea, in the rocky horror picture show, and in bad poetry that still can make me cry. and because of that, i am no longer afraid of dying. because i have experienced such a fucking wonderful life. i could ask for nothing more.

i fucking love my friends.