Fragments of the Quiet Mind

To suddenly come to the realization that I bring nothing but pain and hatred... Is this because of the belief that  happiness is possible in a seemingly futile case?  In this futile attempt in trying to reach for dreams, we seldom think of consequences, and technically, we end up killing people close to us. I guess people have  to weed out all remaining hope in this utterly meaningless condition. In as much as this kills us, staying away is the most sane option. It’s as if the entirety of our situation where people once believed in the achievement of goals and dreams is now turning into a realistic nightmare where they are weighed down by their very definition of universal concepts regarding justice, love, hope, bliss and others – but the saddest thing is, people don’t actually agree with an objective perspective of how things are. Most often than not,  concepts are defined through people's pompous and subjective understanding of everything. What's worse is the stu...

I have bliss book. It’s a small notebook where I bring and write my epiphanic thoughts that out of nowhere reveals itself to me. At work, while exercising, inside the bathroom – anywhere and I mean, ANYwhere. I’m glad I brought it in my belt bag when I had my run this morning. While resting at this familiar bench, in a familiar park and this familiar feeling, I started jotting down. I had tiny useless ideas running through my head while I was running and I tried to remember every detail so I can write those down. As I sat on the wooden plank, I had this ecstatic feeling that somewhat liberated me from my dark plight. It’s different when I’m writing down my thoughts onto blank pages and when I’m encoding it on my blog. There’s no fear that it will be psycho-analyzed and judged by people on the internet. Writing on my small notebook is very redemptive, and it feels amazing. I never thought i'd be back to writing again. I never even imagine that i will be writing ...