For a long time, I used to let people's opinions void that feeling of being futile; I was so dependent on how they percieved me and let that fuel my self happiness and self worth. But now I realize that kind of "self love" was plastic, utterly unsustainable. There's nothing concrete about deriving happiness anywhere but yourself. The only way to fill that void inside permaently was to live life with acceptance, be grateful with what you have, and have immense gusto for constant self-improvement; be independent from the nay-sayers and stand up to be my own alpha. And that is where I currently am, standing strong and proud to be in my own skin. A happiness derived only from myself.

"Have some fire. Be unstoppable. Be a force of nature. Be better than anyone here, and don't give a **** what anyone thinks. There are no teams here, no buddies. You're on your own. Be your own."

In lieu of the concrete jungle and the smog spitters on wheeles that interpolated -- there was an undeniable buzzing glow of life that reverberated off of the bodies of the youth that fueled the city to life.

It was more than what meets the eye -- a cup of coffee isnt just coffee, its the type of bean and the due process it went through that makes its idiosyncrasies its own. The body, acidity, aroma, color, sweetness... just like that, theres no such thing as anyone being inherently boring. Theres art in every thing. Art instantly turns things interesting. Art is looking at things with rose glasses -- extreme appreciation for what it is and how it is. It sees something more than its worth. It transforms it.