I Hate The World.

Sometimes I think the world would be better if it were altruistic and people gave a fuck about each other.  Then I tell myself not to be stupid.

I hate this...Like, intensely.  I say that I hate the world and no one understands.  It's as if they interpret it to mean "I hate living, my life is so hard, I have the worst problems EVER."

No, I don't hate living.  Yes, I do have problems, and yes, sometimes I cry myself to sleep about them, hell, sometimes I don't sleep at all.  But somewhere in the world, there is a person that's crying themselves to sleep because they're cold, or hungry, or their 8 year old bones and muscles are aching after working for hours to receive a crap deal for their family.  So my problems look pretty minimal, in comparison.

The thing is, where's the humanity?  THERE SHOULDN'T BE PEOPLE CRYING THEMSELVES TO SLEEP BECAUSE THEY'RE HUNGRY.

It fucking irritates me.

"Hey, I've got a million odd dollars that I'm not using, I'll just leave it lying around when I know that just one of those dollars could change a person's day, maybe their life."

Why are we so selfish?  I just want an answer.  Just one bloody PROPER answer, and I'll be content.  Give me one reason, one reason that will justify all the inhumane shit that happens in the world.

Power.  Why are people so fucking addicted to turning control into self-benefit?  Alright, I have a country.  I now have a duty to look after them and make decisions that will help them, not have them living in poverty while I have more than enough to eat and wear.

Why can't we be grateful, and help people?

Fucking why.

I hate the world.

=D!

Two Of Us

You're perfect for each other.  You both annoy the shit out of me.

D:

Please eat something.  I'm worried.

._.

"Please take care of yourself.  I don't know how long I have."

Yeah.  And then there's /her/.

I don't know what's wrong with her.  I'n such a suck-ish relation.  God.

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttttttttttttttttttts.

Maybe When I'm Old Enough.

Maybe when I'm old enough, I'll understand why

I need to be old enough to understand.

Are the secrets to life etched into the lines

that map a tired face?

Do the tears that fall from the windows to our souls

mean more than the twinkle of mischievous grace?

Is the rarest smile more valuable than the one that is

given free?

Or are they all the same, a stretch of the lips,

however used they may be?

Can understanding and quiet be more than enough

for one who sits alone?

Must there be loud voices, and actions so rough

as to drive us home.

And what of those you love the most that cause

you grief, and pain?

Do you stand by them with a stretch of the lips or do

you start again?

Hello. I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name?

I'm trying so hard, for you.  I don't think you notice.  That's okay.  You don't even know about this blog, and that's fine, too.  I'd rather you didn't, actually.  Well, I suppose it depends.

You don't realise, though.  You don't realise how much I look up to you, how you inspire me, and how I aspire to be just like you.  You don't realise that I cry when I think things through for you, that I need things to be perfect, and that I love you - And that's the only way I can put it.  What will happen when we part ways?  It hurts to think you won't remember my name.  I'm scared I'll let you down, that you'll be yet another person I disappoint.  I want you to be proud of me, to say that I've improved greatly and that I have spirit and talent and control.  I don't want to be just another one that you'll forget.  I like to think we'd keep in touch, but hey.  Who am I kidding?  I /am/ just another one, and I probably will disappoint.