Silent ranting

   I know what I wanna say but I still don't know how to say it. So this is how it goes. I don't care what you would think of me. I've decided keeping it real as much as I can, as long as I breathe.

   I hate hypocricy, I hate immaturity. I hate your arrogance and ignorance. Age doesn't gurantee your wisdom, so don't tell me you know better because your have more experience. Obviously you haven't gone through what I'm going through. So don't even start the conversation if you want to lecture me. I'm a student of my life as well as your are a student of your life. You and I have different classes with different subject matters. You had an advantage of your life, it doesn't mean you were better than others. Why don't you reveal your real face? Stop changing your masks. The truth will come out eventually.

   Stop pretending that you are nice. You might argue that it's better than hurting others. But you might miss seeing your fake kindness makes other people sick. Why don't you keeping consistent attitude within and without, in your home and outside of home. Some people like me gets really confused by your irregular action.

   Stop pretending you care about others. If you really care about people around you, you wouldn't choose to listen what you wanna hear from them. If you want to listen the truth, don't even make me start to talk. You wouldn't be pleased by my words.

   At last, you have no right to make me anxious. Don't put yourself higher position in our conversation. You are not better than me and I'm not less than you. Your subtle jugmental attitude against me stinks. And, I'm really sorry to feel this way because I really liked you before. If I didn't have these good emotions earlier I wouldn't feel this much disappointed. Yes, I'm very disappointed.

   "What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal." --Albert pike

   Take this and think about it!





 

Wiping the floor

   I hate doing it but my hands already reached for the babywipe.
   Started rubbing, scrubbing on the wooden kitchen floor,
   Sticky, gooey, apple juice stain and unidentifiable substance.

   I thought I cleaned up ten minutes ago.
   What the hell is this?
   Mumbling, grumbling, my mouth full of complaining.
  
   Will I ever finish cleaning?
   Will I ever be liberated from boring, energy consuming manual labor?  
   What's the point of wiping the floor in every ten minutes? It's gonna be messy anyway.
   Why can't I just let it be, let it go?

   Self-questioning again and again,
   Unnecessary self-tormenting couldn't be resisted.
   Looping conversations inside of me,
   Still couldn't stop rubbing and scrubbing.

   Ok, that's it! I shout out.
   I fling the brown and grey and black filthy cloth into the trash can.
   And I swear, I'm done wiping the floor!

   .     .     .     .     .


   But I know I'll wipe the floor ten minutes later once again...


   Because at the end of the day,
   I'll look at the shiny, glossy kitchen floor,
   I'll gently glide my feet and feel the cleaness on my sole,
   Then, I'll feel good... and happy.



  

A Quote

   "Once you accept your own death all of a sudden you’re free to live. You no longer care about your reputation. You no longer care except so far as your life can be used tactically -- to promote a cause you believe in." 

                                                                                         --Saul Alinsky 

   "I've never understood why people consider youth a time of freedom and Joy. It's probably because they have forgotten their own." 

                                                                                   --Margaret Atwood