Cliché

Even though this topic is so cliche that it couldn't be more trite than a hackneyed phrase, I'm going to write about it as long as I need to. [Yes, I'm that selfish]
And most of all I hate feeling like that. `that` = is equal to `love anxiety`, or more likely those little "obsessions" I experience sometimes. I have this bad habit of trying to`possess` things, which cannot be owned by anyone, for they're human beings. I let my mind dwell on something, and in my mind I can pretend to be happy, but sooner or later - I have to confront the facts of life - I can't have what I want; doesn't matter how much I yearn for it. The question is: 'Should you let go and show that you're strong enough to cease pursuing your 'unreachable goal', or too weak to do otherwise?'
I know this is of no use for anyone but me, so I'll post some funny pictures. (due to the low self-esteem of that post. how ironic, really.)

Science doesn't know everything.

I like psychology, because it helps us understand people. Sometimes I just sit somewhere and watch how people pass by, analyzing them. I don’t think they can be understood though.
There’s always a little mystery behind every honest person, a lie – behind every happy one; always a little hope in the wistful eyes, and a little sorrow in every lover’s glimpse, searching for their other half.

Another sleepless night

Art. It is beautiful..
Beautiful… And what is beauty? There isn’t a precise definition and it will be accurate if I agree that it is a relative term. We see the world through our eyes, thus it is different for everyone. Actually, we don’t see the world – we see its reflection in our minds. Picture yourself in a car, maybe waiting for something, because the engine is off. Its dark and it’s raining outside. You can see the traffic lights. It displays a green light, which is refracted by many different-shaped raindrops on the side window. Those raindrops reflect some parts of the light, not the whole of it, changing it somehow. Those raindrops are our thoughts, feelings, impressions and they change the image of the world we think we live in.

To reveal a secret

..silence

I was wondering whether I should share a piece of myself by writing a short story, whose plot would be one of my latest dreams. I felt excited and fascinated when I woke up, maybe a little puzzled by its meaning later, nonetheless, I thought you wouldn't be interested in reading such a thing, and chose not write it.
They say dreams are succession of thoughts, emotions and impressions, whom we're left with during the day, experienced through dreams.
I have experienced it, not you; I've dreamed it, felt it; you can't, it'll mean nothing to you, but words and sentences put in the right order, so that they can make sense. They won't bear the same meaning as they will for me, because when I'm writing the story I'll be recalling the dream, which is filled with feelings. Feelings you never felt. And now that I think about it, those 'pure emotions' are the main reason the dream impressed me that much.
And what kind of story will be one that contains nothing, but empty words and a poor, confusing plot? A bad one. A story whose characters will be strangers to you and their destiny won't be of matter. Because I'm not good at writing and I won't be able to make you less indifferent to them and, maybe, feel attached to them in one way or another. Because a good writer is the one who can make their readers pray, cry, laugh, fear; or in other words: relive 'the fate' of the characters.
So I'll just leave you with some quotes I like and I hope you will too, when you read them.

"The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear." [Stephen King; "Different Seasons"; "The body"]

"Even if I'd known the right thing to say, I probably couldn't have said it. Speech destroys the functions of love, I think... If you speak to tell a deer you mean it no harm, it glides away with a single flip of its tail. The word is the harm. Love has teeth; they bite; the wounds never close. No word, no combination of words, can close those lovebites. It's the other way around, that's the joke. If those wounds dry up, the words die with them." [Stephen King; "Different Seasons"; "The body"]

a+c = who you are

I Was lying in my bed the other night, unable to fall asleep, doing some evaluation of my previous days such as were they of any use for my growing up as a smart/thoughtful/talented/etc. person. Lately, I've been doing a lot of things (e.g. reading, watching films, drawing, going out,..) so that I can feel a little more meaningful to myself, and not too worthless to the world. One idiot less. So, I was thinking and one simple question just came across my mind: "Who am I?" Not that I haven't asked that myself before. Actually, I have, a lot of times. But this time there was this feeling of self-unconsciousness.
So what makes one person unique? It's a simple formula: appearance (a) + character (c) = who you are. But what happens if you're improving (or trying to improve) your looks and personality, thus changing them. Therefore, I have no answer to the question above. And I can't find a definition to the word "Milena" in the dictionary.
So do I force myself to change something and don't feel comfortable doing the things I do, or do I do what my will says, barely improving the person I am. How do I end this post? Oh, yes. I hope I didn't bore you to death and you might find this post not that useless. (don't argue)

THE END