A world of words and conjugations to explore. As F. R. David say in one of their songs "words don't come easy". In attempt to contradict that quote, I will try to share all the toughs and creations stuck in my mind, continuously screaming to get out. I don't expect comprehension, I don't expect any kind of kindness from you. I prefer simple, straight, honest opinions about what you read. I could say that I don't care what you think, but that would be bullshit. Everybody cares about what others think, even if it's the worst thing you can possibly imagine or feel. Because at the end of the day, that counts. As for writers that supposedly write what come from their inside and don't give a crap about what the readers think about their pieces, well, that's just a lie. They write with a purpose, I write with a purpose, and that purpose is quite understandable; to please their audience. Every writer supposedly has one. You are not obliged to like what I write, nor other writers. However, if someone's writing pleases the person who reads it, then I'm sure, next time he writes, he'll have that person in mind. We can see from many successful examples in the industry. On how a first book lead to a second one and so forth. The audience liked, the book sold out. The writer knew that if it was that incredibly successful, the structure, the alignment, were correctly done. The conclusion was easy to take, the public liked it. So yes, writers care. Although our creations stems from our imagination or living experiences, we feel achieved when our work is acknowledged by others. It feels good to write? Yes. It feels indeed. For itself, it helps fleeing from this life and embody some character, or some feeling that we think might me interesting to write about. Nevertheless, the bigger ability of pleasing our public will increase our responsibility towards him, and thus increase our motivation to improve and explore new horizons. It's like a spiral. We write so you can judge us according to our words, our statements, our way to see our surroundings and ourselves. But, at any point, don't think we don't care about your thoughts. They can and will help us on the long road. Everyone aims for Perfection. We ear many times there is no such thing. Well, perhaps we can't achieve perfection. I'm sure I'm still far away of being anywhere near greatness. Yet, I write. Good things, bad things, awful, unstructured things. Some inaccurate, others just terrible to read, maybe. But that's the journey I have to make and endure. To become a better writer? For sure. To achieve something? Also. So, what's the main goal? That must come from inside us, mine is to improve myself, to keep pushing and pushing, to see how far I can go. Everything is lived like an experience. Going on a trip, visiting a new city, reading a new book... And this, this is one of my own. John Waine
a friend of mine asked to write something about people who go through deep depression. I wanted to show the patient's thoughts, how he sees others and the disease itself. I wrote this quickly and might contain errors, but I would like your views on the subject and, if it is not too much to ask, on the text. It's supposed to be small, so didn't write too much. I'd like to get your feedback so that I can add something more to this. Thank you.
Puzzles of the mind.
They say a person without goals is a lost, wandering around aimlessly. On the other hand, someone without dreams is dead. But those two concepts can, sometimes, emerge into only one. So the question arises, How can we define that word, that mixture of assumptions that comes down to the void? In fact, (s)he's someone undifferentiated, without characterization or homogeneous attributes. Only a soul, completely fucked, on a sinking raft, patched but without any possible rescue. People often turn to doctors, specialists, to try to pull that person to another kind of reality. But when we ourselves cease to believe in our salvation, hardly anyone will convince us otherwise.
It's funny how, as I see, only weak minds can be manipulated by psychiatrists or psychologists. Only moldable minds who set themselves in these kind situations are able to get out of them, since it all started on their heads. As opposed to whoever falls in the confidence trick, these people, who perceive the type of person who evaluates them, can measure every word they say, knowing at the outset what the reaction from the other side will be. The game turns around and the manipulator become the manipulated and,without even imagine, begins to lose at his own game. No matter the amount of heroin injected or how many roofies they give us, we do not yield. The truth is that whether they like it or not, we control the game.
We are genuinely psychopaths, true strategists of the mind, controllers of all social quotidian. Without anyone realizing it, we are always ahead, our mind predicts the behaviors and visualizes, in the future, the consequences of the present. We are visionaries, we may not study the skies but we know the origin of the stars. So far yet so close.
What for others is beauty and pleasure, for us is objective and concrete. In the final analysis, there is a definition for the state of mind that we have created. It is someone who relies on the uncertainty of the present to look to the future with a question mark. Someone fearless and with an insatiable killer instinct capable of anything to survive. He does not know whether to look for life or death, but for now, he's just trying to breath.
The weakest needs something to light their way, a reason not to give up. We don't. We perceive their heads and their needs for hopes and expectations. We need to breathe so we can continue to outline our plan, realizing the future and all its implications. Predict the opponent's reaction when we change the position of our parts. In the rear, we don't need sunshine and rainbows, we need a real storm. that's where we impose on ourselves and show how we are.
It's in the blood of battle, in the brutality of war, where we create our masterpiece.
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