There are different people from all walks of life that tread the same earth. Even those who have never left their hometown and those who have traveled far and wide, there have been thousands of years prior of others who have walked, swam, and even crawled on those exact same path. In a world of “ME” where the center is your own ego, you forget that there are other people around whose shoes you can’t walk in but whose path you can walk on. Though only an observer, you can try to see where each person comes from and try to understand how they feel. Only the selfish cannot understand that life is not just about “me” but also about “you” and “them” on different levels of priorities.
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Self Worth
New York City. 2008. There are about 19 million people in this wonderful crazy town. Every night, I walk out of work, the lights are still on in every building. I forget that sometimes, I work in the busiest city in the world. Night sometimes looks like day and day is like a never ending parade. It’s a lonely town even in all it’s 19 million crawling inhabitants and of course, the commuters and the tourists. Milan Kundera wrote in his novel “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” that New York is an unintentional beauty and “beauty by mistake’-the final phase in the history of beauty.” Sometimes this beauty, this romance is lost in this city of speed and change. Maybe the people have gone jaded. But to me, romance is never lost. It’s just misplaced in the rush of work and the loneliness that you feel in this city.
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Love’s Bound
As an onlooker to those involved, acquainting anew, and falling apart, love seems to be overcomplicated and stretched taut. In theory, such love between two people in both the physical and emotional sense is simple. It is an act between these two creature who care for each other with no debt or pity involved. It is the longing of one another’s company in both friendly and amorous ways. Love is not bounded by time and cannot be counted by human hand so why must we start complicating it by human ideas?
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Compass or Pendulum
If feelings were easily swayed, I’d asked to be a pendulum that tells time. But since I’m not, I’d rather be a compass that tells direction. And the direction that I’ve taken all my life has had mixed reviews. I have made many wrong impressions. I have made many right choices. But a compass is never constant. There are times that North will point to the south pole.
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Wishes Are
Wishes are like the deepest, darkest desire that not even you can dictate. They are a coincidence waiting to happen, a surprise meant to take your breath away, a force far from reach. They are the whispers from your heart. The sighings of your soul. The desire that pulses from within. If they were not these, they would not be a wish. They would not require beliefs, prayers, and dreams for them to come true. Yet, people keep saying that if you do not think about it, it’ll eventually come your way. Do they really mean you have to pretend amnesia or that you bury these wishes in the farthest abyss?
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My Perfectly Imperfect Man
Ever consider making the perfect man? What would the recipe be like? How would it taste like? If he’s risky and outgoing, would he be tangy? If he’s hot and vivacious, would he be spicy? For awhile, I really thought that the type of food you like to eat could dictate the person you would like to meet. I’m still testing that out.
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