Before I die.... A truly deep question to ask thyself, if one is willing to look deep and reflect inwards. The simple answer could be going somewhere or doing something, but those can be meaningful memories, but what good does that do you when you are gone? The memories you hold dear, will they matter with what comes after death? Regardless of what you believe happens after death, it is all unknown.

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Before I die, I do not want to be like the many who want to be remembered for doing something big and great to society and others don’t want to be forgotten, but so many do not want to be remembered for a feeling. A feeling--yes. I mean that you bring something more than just yourself, even the feeling of your presence. A feeling. A feeling that is missed and those who were near and dear to you now miss that feeling and remember you not for your status in society, how much or little you talked, or anything else, but remember you for the feeling you brought to them. Whether that was your silent comfortable presence, endless thoughts, and ideas, no stop jokes or talking or arguing, happiness, joy, or maybe a shoulder to cry on. All these things link to emotions--to feelings that stain others in ways indescribable. Stain in a good way, as one stains wood so it lasts long with a look unique to itself. A stain that brings out the good rich character of the wood, as that person stains you by bringing out who you are, and your best. Someone stains deep into your vines and roots, which is irreplaceable.

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Before I die, I want this to be my legacy. I don’t need my accomplishments in life written in a book, or even have any part of my life written in a book. I don’t need anything else, but to be missed. Not missed in a way where those that miss me cannot move on, but missing in the sense that I was not just replaceable, and that the feeling I brought was something that they realized was something truly special.

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Before I die, I want to stain others in the best of ways, that impact that person in a way that makes them a deeper person. The smallest of amounts is more than enough. One simple suggestion I hope changes them and opens their eyes to the world.

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Before I die, I want to be able to open the eyes of those around me. Open them to the truth that is not easily seen to them. Help those who have accepted the blindness presented to them from the lies that surround us.

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Before I die, I hope I helped every person I could and did everything in my power to uplift them to success and happiness. I hope that I do not fall this task, and those will not take for granted the help they receive from others.

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Before I die, or even after, I do not accept recognition for the things I did or admitted to do. I do not need thanks or praise in any way. I simply asked not to be forgotten and that the feeling I brought to those around me, was something truly special that only I could bring in my own unique way; like so many other people bring a unique feeling to every interaction. I hope that I made a positive impact regardless how big or small to others.

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Before I die, I hope to know that I did what was right and that my life was not wasted.

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Before I die, I hope to look back at the way I stained the world in the best ways.

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Before I die, I hope all of this will be true, and then--only then will I rest peacefully.

#death #reflection #philosophy

I look out the window into my backyard that is covered with a perfect layer of snow. The snow is untouched and gives a level of peace. I sit here in my small room happy at peace with myself; knowing I have no struggles or troubles. I do not have to go to sleep, being kept up at night with all my worries and troubles.

Life is perfect and great. My struggles have been long since over. I look around my room, the place I consider home, and see myself. See the person I am. Not just the person I show others, but my true self as well. The true balance I have in life. The internal peace that keeps me well and happy.

I am capable of anything and I am not struggling in life. I am happy where I am and I slowly grow in all the best ways. I have the best people around me and my relationship with my girlfriend is wonderful and perfect. It is what everyone wants in a relationship. I could not be happier with my life and who I am. My future holds all the success of the world.

I wish this was all true, but the only truth in that is the perfectly laid snow in the backyard. The snow looks lovely and at the moment it brings me peace and happiness. Life is no easy task and puts me through hell, but I can wish and hope for it to be bigger. I can get kicked down, and kicked while I am down time and time again, but as long as I get up and keep moving forwards I have something. Once I stop moving forwards I lose what I have left of myself and lose it all. One must keep moving forwards even if it is one small step at a time. Once you stop, you have given into the other side--you have quit and lost. Do not do that. Keep moving forward.

We are limited to the constructs of this world. Our minds are formed and we cannot uniform them. We can not really advance until minds are unformed. Minds grow naturally but we groom them to think a certain way. The people in control use this to manipulate and control. Oppressing the mind gives the strongest control of people. You think you are free, but you are not. You are controlled, you're a small piece in the big picture. You are needed, but not. If you die--who cares--if you don’t you will work for the people in control. The people in control are a separate breed of people. They are aliens--not reptile aliens, but in the sense that they are not native to here--here being Earth--aliens heer to control us. The people in power and control are special. They manipulate and persuade thousands--including you. You are not free. You do not think freely. Break from the mold. Challenge what you are told. They will oppress and control you. You let them. You turn a cold shoulder to corruption and the wrong people in control. You allow it to happen because you reconditioned to do so. McCarthy, Trump, Cohn, and many others do not lose support or are punished for it. You allow ths. It is society’s fault for accepting this.

I look around the room. Not just any room, a metaphorical room, or that is at least what I think. What do I know? Well quite frankly I know nothing; there is no way to be certain I do know anything. If I know that I know nothing, then I do in fact know something--that something being nothing.

What is purpose? What is us? Who are we? What is this room? Light or Darkness? Everything or Nothing? Beginning or Middle or End? Real or Fake? These are opposites. Balance. They are balanced, but how? How does the universe achieve this balance?

The universe is a flow of chaos, anarchy, and irregularities. Many people disagree with this because they claim things have an order such as: society, science, religion, and many other aspects of life--our life. This is a clear distinction. Humanity has found order in what we think we know. What we understand. Science yes, has an order, because we gave it one. Finding patterns and repetition is what us humans look for. This gives stability, routine, and order to our lives; something each human carves. Each human carves this sense of security. The fear of change. Humans are so scared of change that they even deny and argue that it is irrational to fear change, but within their own argument they prove how they are terrified of change. Why is this? Simple answer links back to humanity needs a rock, an anchor, stability. It needs this in order to feel secure and allows humanity to be at ease. People fear anarchy. They fear not having control and they fear what could happen if things radically change. Humans only know what they think they know at the moment. They are terrified of what they could find or learn that could change their reality and view of life. People are scared. This is why philosophy is pushed away to the back burner. Why people look down on philosophy thinking it is dumb and just question existence and other “truths” of reality. People do not like this. They do not like when someone finds something that causes change. It destroys the sense of security we have in what we “know.” People do not want someone to prove that we do not know they think we know, or prove that there is no god, or prove that science is not factual. This would shake the world. Shake each and every person. This would cause chaos. The knowledge that everything is chaos causes more chaos.

In the room. The room or is many rooms. How many rooms? What is room? How does one define the room? Can I be inside and outside of the room at the same time? What is time? How does one exist, to begin with? Is the room a thing or a person? What makes me a person and the room a thing? Am I truly a thing, because the room is a thing? If we assume science is correct then we are all made up of elements so we are all objects? How do we know the wall does not think? How do I know I am truly thinking? What is it that is a dream? How does one dream? How did I fall asleep and now am alive in another reality? Does that mean I am alive elsewhere? If so could there be two of me? Are there more of me? How do I know I am me? If I am not me, who am I? If I am not me, and he is not me, then who is me? How is me? How do I come to be? Is the room me? Am I the room? Can the room and I be the same? Is the room and I in two places at once? Are we both truly existing or are we not? If we are not, then what is not? What is nothingness? Is nothingness, something? Is something, nothingness or is it something else? Do I me or me am I? If one dies or dies not does one live another not life? If this not life is life, then is death not truly death? If death is sleep and sleep is not death, could death be being awake? Is this the dream and death the day? Could one die within dying and truly live? If Heaven is real then it is not death? Then death is not having a physical human body? Is the room in Heaven? If the room has a soul it is in Heaven?

Is Heaven just the chaos in true pureness? Heaven is the true balance and control; this control is through chaos. We cannot get to Heaven unless we give into pure chaos and give ourselves into the truest form of the universe--death.

Death is chaos. The universe is chaos. Dying allows us to be chaos; to be the universe. That is true peace. Peace through the pure chaos of the universe.

Nowhere. Emptiness. Where should I be? What is my purpose here? What should I become? What and where am I destined to be? Who am I supposed to be with? These are some of the hundreds of questions I find myself pondering day in and day out. From waking up to going to sleep--or well lack thereof when it comes to sleep--but this nonetheless probes deep reflection.

I find myself pondering these questions out of the feeling of lostness. It is not true and completely lostness. I do and do not have the answers--which is the hardest part. I only have bits and pieces to the puzzle and I have to work with that, but I don’t want to. I want more pieces that seem impossible to find.

I find more of myself and what I want to be, but then I am still lost at what I want to be and who I am. It is almost a never-ending conflict of what I am and what I want to be. I think I know, but only to be proven that I don’t know. Along with this, I do not know where to look for more answers. Look in spots I have never looked before. The feeling of being lost haunts me constantly.

I feel lost, alone, helpless, and misunderstood constantly--all the time. I feel inferior and feel like I am always in an uphill battle fighting--fighting for myself, all alone. It’s this constant state of misunderstanding that kills because I feel as though no one truly--truly--knows and understands me. Maybe I am looking for a level of understanding and connection that is only known and understood to me.

Maybe it is a feeling of unsettlement that these original feelings are causing me which makes me unsatisfied in life. Maybe it is the constant miss understanding my whole life that has caused me this. If that is the case I would think I would have adapted to this, but I haven’t. Maybe it is the lonely nights I spend doing everything for: working out, writing, reading, learning, listening to music, laying on the floor, sitting on the floor in the darkness of the basement of the kitchen, maybe it’s the laying in bed staring at the walls looking for the answers in every aspect of my life, maybe it’s the pain caused by others from the past that continues to hurt me deep down, maybe its the pain my mother causes me that I try to stop and try to fix the problem but it is never enough, maybe it’s thinking I had a healthy relationship with my now ex but then realizing it wasn’t because I was losing myself to help her so so much with all her problems since deep down I am a very caring person and I hate to see people suffer and in pain, but I never show that I am caring to most people so I am not taken advantage of since my mom uses my forgiving nature and my emotions as her punchlines to win an argument where she beats me down for feeling hurt. Maybe it’s not being able to sleep well on a constant basis for as long as I can remember. Maybe it’s me burning myself out at work all the time. Maybe it’s the depression that haunts and strikes me when I am weak. Maybe it’s me wanting to give up because I am tired of fighting. Maybe it is because I do not know when to stop fighting and concede. Maybe it’s me trying to hold everything together like a bunch of glass shards from a broken mug. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it is because deep down I am hurt and continually hurt by things but I never show it. Maybe it is because of that, that I am in pain. Maybe it is the nightmares that scar my memory. The scenes of death of myself and others. Not just death by the detailed experiences of death and torture. Maybe it is waking up from those nightmares in pain mentally and physically. Maybe it is the feeling of getting impaled or the feeling of death I experience in those dreams that traumatizes me. Maybe it is that. Maybe it is those dreams of pain. Maybe that shows the pain I suffer is deeply embedded in me, so deep down it speaks to me through my dreams. Maybe it’s the never-ending thinking I have to cope with the pain and suffering I have. The lack of being able to relax and not do anything. Maybe it is the fact I always feel like I got something to prove in every aspect of life. Maybe it was being bullied as a kid. Maybe it is from being hit in the head over and over by my mother as a discipline. Maybe it is the “you are to be seen and not heard” or the silence when out in public or the constant reminder that I am a child and know nothing. Maybe that is why I have an addiction to learn and to know. Maybe that is why I feel like I have something to prove. Maybe that is why I care so much about others, especially those close to me. Maybe, maybe I am not normal. Maybe I am broken and do not belong in society. Maybe that is the case. Maybe it is true that I don’t think like other people. Maybe I think on some wacked upscale that I do not belong or conform to society. Maybe that is the case. Maybe it is. Maybe that is the reason for my pain. Maybe.

Who knows? Cause I sure as hell don’t and get so tempted just to fucking give up, but I don’t and that is probably one of the most terrifying things--the day I truly quit. The day it is too much. That day--that day--has a date attached to it that I do not know when it will appear, but it will probably strike when I am knocked down in life. The day I do not get back on my feet. That will be the day it is done and over.

Look. Think. Wander. It is all empty, empty for you to insert what one desires. A void of nothingness where everything can be created filling the nothingness, but that is only if one desires it. Desires to make something of the nothingness. Desire, an addiction to more--to things greater than what is in front of them. A dier addiction that causes one to crave more, crave better, crave the creation of new and revolutionary ideas.

Bird. Bird flies across. Across the vast empty space of everything. Looking up to the bird as it peacefully flies across--across looking for its own desires. Desires of something. It wills the desire to find happiness, to find peace.

Be the bird. You are the bird. The bird is you, and you are the bird. You are the one flying and moving majestically through the vastness of nothingness, waiting for something to be created, but you are the one that needs to create it. It is up to you. It waits on you, or it will not. Maybe it will come and go like a bird. You need to chase it. Give yourself what you need to will to catch the prey, or cease to exist. It is up to you. It will or will not wait for you. Take the risks, be the everything in the nothingness.

It is that unforgiving feel of easement that haunts your being. It comes at unpredicted, unspoken, unplanned times causing an ambush on your being changing all courses of plan.

It causes that deep level of reflection that leads you to a deep aspect of yourself and your very existence; achieving a point of balance between it all, leaving you in peace just existing or not. Maybe becoming removed from existence going in interstate balance achieving true homeostasis--a place where nothing and everything is in and around you, in and out of reach. Allowing the thoughts to move light speeds ahead, behind, and at the presence. True removal from the human world we build or the natural world we destroyed. The spots within the droplets as they fall from the sky, driving into the soil, soaking it, to move on with its life.

The darkness looms it all, but not with hate but comfort. The balance of light and dark is not the balance of good and evil, but of a coin--both needed so the other side has aback. A balance needed for good on both sides.

The feeling brings with it the answers and questions, but of nothing to everything. It is all these and not. Resent it all ends, but none. The many of the few. Nothing in ends, but starts throughout in name, to be the start of the middle, where the present is without end to future that becomes the path without name nor meaning until given by the future to which all things are made; by those of the victors in control, to which the powerless remain powerless. They are full of answers since the visions of it all are there when believing truly in the truth, but accept the false to be true in its falseness, are those truly enriched with the riches which become what life becomes through what one ought to do by purpose to fill the emptiness--with more or less emptiness to fill it your empty it--is left to the feeling of the question of uneasement, becak to where it all started.

Many fear reflection and what it could bring. Many fear questioning everything around them, leaving themselves vulnerable and without answers. Many are not willing to accept that what they know, may not be known. This is quite understandable, but it restricts one from finding themselves and what is around them.

The close-mindedness of the masses leads to overlooking the gems of life. It is a shame that many close their eyes to what is around them. Especially when just opening their eyes every so much could bring them so much more to life. It is never as difficult as it seems when tackling the challenge in your own way. Self-reflection in time will bring the answers to how to find the answers. It is within you that thought it formed; where the seed is planted. The seeds are everywhere, but it is you who picks them and nurtures them. It is solely up to you, to give life to the seed.

Words only have meaning if the receiver gives them meaning. A seed is a seed, but the seed holds life and a path into the unknown future. It is up to you to plant and care for the plant. Someone will give you words, a story, a lesson, a seed, and possibly even plant it for you, but you--YOU--must build, expand upon it to grow the seed--growing its meaning. Then the beauty is found. Not necessarily in the moment, but later when the plant grows into something beautiful. Possibly not “beautiful” but its own beauty in its own remark. Then you can look back and see the beauty and meaning in all its stages, and not just one simple part of life.

I am me.

I am a train.

I am a steam locomotive.

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I am a steam locomotive, fighting and pounding down the tracks.

A raging fire within.

A fire fueled by coal which is knowledge.

The fire roars boiling the water

The water which is the emotions I hold within

The emotions of: understanding, caring, and sympathy

The coal and water combined fuel,

The beast which is the locomotive.

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Slow to start,

But once moving it is hard to stop.

Fighting through everything that is thrown at it:

The bad weather of pain caused by those I hold dearest,

The train cars behind that grow more and more as life gets harder, and

The long journey to get where I am trying to arrive at,

This all causes the fire to rage on more;

Rage stronger and hotter, to move the train faster and further.

To never stop, the fire fights.

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The fire roars within the firebox almost endlessly.

It however will stop.

It will stop when the boiler runs out of water.

Once the water levels run too low, the locomotive will explode.

Once my water has been taken and poured, I am left hurt and ignored.

Once the water is gone the boiler explodes.

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It is over.

The water is gone.

The boiler explodes.

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The fire is gone.

It is out.

There is no fight left.

The locomotive is spread across the landscape.

It will never be a locomotive again,

It is just scraps of what once was a locomotive.

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It will never fight again.

The fire will never rage again.

It is gone.

The fight is over.

It will hopefully move on to another life,

One with less pain.

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My fight is over.

The fire is gone.

The time has come to move on.

This steam locomotive that is me, is gone.

It will never have another raging fire within.

Time to go,

Go to a place with less pain.

My fight is over.

The fire is forever gone.

Look out the window and see the backyard. A backyard covered in a layer of untouched snow. It covers everything: the ground, the trees, the deck, the fence, and the roof. It makes everything look perfect and different. A good kind of different. People like the different. Looking back at the snow, it looks as if it is at peace. One can observe the like small soft bumps in the snow causing it to not be a completely perfectly flat surface. It gives it definition. It changes it. Even though the top layer is not touched or broken, there are still imperfections--imperfections deep down. The snow is not flat, it is not a perfect layer underneath. From observing it on the outside we can see perfection, but even within what we deem as ’perfection” still has imperfections. One could say the bumps are the struggles of the person and it still shows that even in the idols we have and the people we deem as “perfect” still are human with: imperfections, struggles and problems. Even the snow is not truly perfect, so do not expect yourself to be perfect. You are you; with all your imperfections and flaws. Do not hate or dislike yourself for that. Everyone has them. Everyone has different struggles and pains. Do not be ashamed of yourself. Be yourself. Love yourself.