(Philosophy)

There are two main emotions, love and fear.
Love is understanding, and it gives us courage.
Fear comes from the lack of understanding, and it makes us nervous/afraid.

I learned that I used to seek love from people by wanting to control the way they perceive me. I wanted them to know that I could relate to, or understand them more than I may actually do.
But, if I kept doing that, that would be foolish, no one understands another entirely, only through similar experiences, but never exact. It’s not fair to the individual.
The goal isn’t just to connect with what’s similar, but also (maybe even more so) to connect with what’s different.
People fear difference, because they don’t know what it may bring. That could be a result of society’s teachings for centuries.
Racism wouldn’t exist if we as humans loved difference. Apparently we feel safe with what is familiar. Why “Curiosity killed the cat?” Why not “Curiosity isn’t a sin, but should be proceeded with caution.”
Those who seek due to curiosity are open minded. Those who follow the ways of the world or rules are more judgmental once they spot something out of the ordinary.
This is where insecurity comes from, because of this programming that if we are not the same, we should not belong.
Saying “love yourself” almost limits you, that’s like saying the rest of the world is like this, but focus and ‘accept’ what you are.
We shouldn’t just teach people to love themselves, what if that can be a side effect from teaching people how to love difference in others.
We should say that every single individual has the power to contribute to improvement, expanding knowledge, and a way of living from the power that their own individuality brings.
It’s not how we are similar. It’s how we are different.

The night
is a torn tapestry
where celestial bodies
burn beautifully
incinerating
the cosmic stitching
that bind us,

quantum energy
unraveling
all of reality,
as I stare
stupidly enthralled
by the awesome
complexity.

Silvers spheres
of gaseous spirals
spew atomic fury.

Other poets
and painters
have presented it better,
such a sweet
starry starry night
made to delight
all of us,

but this time
I return
my reflections
with the love
and devotion
born of
a dreamer’s
dark predilection
to romanticize
every aspect
of our lives.

At times I wake in dreams.
At times I’m the observer.
At times I don’t remember.

There was a time waking felt like nothing.
There was a time living was observing.
There was a time days were black.

Time walks on.
Time will move its legs and drag you across the floor.
Time won’t look back and tell you things were missed.
Time is merciless.

This time I’ll fill my eyes with color.
This time the black will come alive.
This time I’ll live.
This time I’ll wake.

..that I and only know
a turn you made
I witnessed this
(secreted from in your blind patch)
You're secret was told in a single action ;
a glance you made
and I knew
the guilty rotter that had made playtime ;
the projection in your mental dreyings

I put aside the impression observed
that I may prey upon your company
on some other chosen day

accident
TV
white SUV

phone call
shaky hands
voicemail
call again...

ring ring
hey, what’s up?
nothing...
nothing much...

Through this window
I see a life
That seems to be mine.

Episode by episode,
Its scenes flash
Towards oblivion.

Fast and unexpected,
This life falls in front of me
Like a rock through
An endless well.

No feelings or care
To be received,
But the constant action
Of ignoring loneliness.

No screams of help,
When expectations
Proceed hard work.

No glimpse of joy.
This life just rushes out
Of my beating chest,

With every ****** verse.