i think its the emotional attachments to things that dont contact me
or even exsist...
it seems i create feelings for things non-exsistent, or no where near to personal to me.
I do it to people i know nothing about
and things ill never see.
but the things close to me.. i cant seem to do it for.
I can see an elderly man on the street walking, he could be rich i dont know
and i have an overwhelming sense of compassion for him.
somone being yelled at, maybe they deserve it.. i feel bad.
but its only personal.. big groups of people make not feel so bad.
theyve all got somone to talk to theyre all there.
but I feel like singular people are so vunerable.
my friends and family, im almost numb to them.. i dont understand.
I used to be so different.
I start school in a few hours.
I want to learn more about myself. about why I think this way.
is that going against the world? perhaps the greatest feat a man can accomplish
(not sayin im a man)
the walls theyre lucky, they just learn, never have to fear because theyre memories cant die.
I fear for the elderly everything they keep so dear, leaves.
whats the point of holding all this stock in memories.
(its to remember while you can, to be happy with what youve got)
is it though?
maybe we keep our memories, maybe we dont.
forgetting a memory.. i cant understand that, when were young no one remembers much.
why? thats rediuclous, sure our brains are not developed. thats cheap and bullshit. we were there.
theyre ours.
im not so sure i buy the shit were taught about anything.
I dont care how much evidence there is off shit. i find it all hard to believe.
I find being alive hard to believe. like as i type this somone will come kill me. maybe im not allowed to think like this.
why is life so cruel to tear us away from the only things we can personalize to well.
the only things that truly are ours.. our memorys.
maybe we choose to forget, but why? you dont get younger, and you loose character if you can call it that.
you wont learn. youll degress.
i dont understand am i the only one that thinks like this? i feel like I am
and its so frequent. i wont say i hate it.
I like it, I like my mind. its a bitch and makes me scared, but I feel like maybe i understand something.
maybe i dont. i problly dont.
but im content, and im content with learning more about it.
photography
capture the beauty of scenes no one else can see, and show those memorys. photography is the only median that can do this.
atleast in my eyes.
but in my eyes, everythings differenrt from everyone elses.
no matter how much we learn, we will forget it eventually.
and thats the killer.
we all loose our memorys.
one day.
or even exsist...
it seems i create feelings for things non-exsistent, or no where near to personal to me.
I do it to people i know nothing about
and things ill never see.
but the things close to me.. i cant seem to do it for.
I can see an elderly man on the street walking, he could be rich i dont know
and i have an overwhelming sense of compassion for him.
somone being yelled at, maybe they deserve it.. i feel bad.
but its only personal.. big groups of people make not feel so bad.
theyve all got somone to talk to theyre all there.
but I feel like singular people are so vunerable.
my friends and family, im almost numb to them.. i dont understand.
I used to be so different.
I start school in a few hours.
I want to learn more about myself. about why I think this way.
is that going against the world? perhaps the greatest feat a man can accomplish
(not sayin im a man)
the walls theyre lucky, they just learn, never have to fear because theyre memories cant die.
I fear for the elderly everything they keep so dear, leaves.
whats the point of holding all this stock in memories.
(its to remember while you can, to be happy with what youve got)
is it though?
maybe we keep our memories, maybe we dont.
forgetting a memory.. i cant understand that, when were young no one remembers much.
why? thats rediuclous, sure our brains are not developed. thats cheap and bullshit. we were there.
theyre ours.
im not so sure i buy the shit were taught about anything.
I dont care how much evidence there is off shit. i find it all hard to believe.
I find being alive hard to believe. like as i type this somone will come kill me. maybe im not allowed to think like this.
why is life so cruel to tear us away from the only things we can personalize to well.
the only things that truly are ours.. our memorys.
maybe we choose to forget, but why? you dont get younger, and you loose character if you can call it that.
you wont learn. youll degress.
i dont understand am i the only one that thinks like this? i feel like I am
and its so frequent. i wont say i hate it.
I like it, I like my mind. its a bitch and makes me scared, but I feel like maybe i understand something.
maybe i dont. i problly dont.
but im content, and im content with learning more about it.
photography
capture the beauty of scenes no one else can see, and show those memorys. photography is the only median that can do this.
atleast in my eyes.
but in my eyes, everythings differenrt from everyone elses.
no matter how much we learn, we will forget it eventually.
and thats the killer.
we all loose our memorys.
one day.
I'm not afraid of getting old because I'll be less physically capable; I'm afraid of losing my mind. It's sort of the best thing we (as a species) have going for us. And enough people just waste it (their capacity for intelligent thought and creative potential) doing nothing with their lives and just surviving.
Supposedly we don't ever forget anything though. It's all there, and it just takes some cue or another to remember it. Sort of like those dreams you have where you wake up and remember it, but immediately forget, then later in the day something triggers it and you remember bits and pieces (maybe not exactly as they happened, but memory distorts everything).
Ok, I guess I'm done now. Sorry about the somewhat overly lengthy reply, but I don't spend a lot of time on SG reading genuinely thought provoking things so I figured it deserved a moment's contemplation.
What about the painful ones, the embarassing ones, the destructive ones, is remembering those ones a good thing, does it teach us something, prevent us from doing it all again, serve as an opposite to know how good the good ones really are?