ideas, ideas are all i have. personal ideas is all that is important. i can talk about everyone, i can generalize but that is useful only when explaining myself to the other or understanding/accepting myself wrt to others. but how often do i actually look at myself with honesty of the utmost grade. its not a momentary view, but requires my time and attention, i need to be serious. and even if it confuses me in regards the outer world, and also disturbs me wrt reference standards i have acquired or which i have myself set, it is nevertheless closer to myself. while i write this, im in two worlds, one that is speaking solely to and for myself, and the other where i am imagining someone else reading these lines about me. and all im talking about the former, and restraining the latter. how often do i spend the time thinking about the others and how they look at me..my vision is so much of what i understand of others. my references are those of others. and in that regard i look at myself and accept myself. i want the same to be really bestowed upon me. now who are the others?
the first names come from my friends and families, and even before that, its my best friend. in all honesty of allowing confusion to dawn upon me, im questioning my beliefs, asking myself constantly if i will show these lines to others, as if others are just behind while i carry on this act of spending time pressing some buttons, sitting in a centuries old posture (atleast from the time the brits left), looking at a screen of moving characters, a form of expression vastly passive on the outside. and its fun to write too. it seems i want to do this, to express my thoughts. im here, accepted by the world in general around me, as someone doing something that one knows is OK to do, others have done it, and it doesnt cross the boundaries of normality, its acceptable.
there are things that i can identify that are outright questionable. all things are questionable as conditioned, acquired, and blindly accepted..one of the thought that comes into my mind, clothes..im wearing clothes because everyone is. and asking this question seems funny and annoying accoring to my idea of 'society'. but who makes this society complete, other than me? and let me remind the reader or the writer, that even in this moment of few lines and a reasonable speed, i am writing but to a reader who is not me..there it is, this issue of not being totally oneself, totally in all respects...i dont want to share anything, i neednt..how easily im in the habit to let go of this oneness and embrace the otherness...
the first names come from my friends and families, and even before that, its my best friend. in all honesty of allowing confusion to dawn upon me, im questioning my beliefs, asking myself constantly if i will show these lines to others, as if others are just behind while i carry on this act of spending time pressing some buttons, sitting in a centuries old posture (atleast from the time the brits left), looking at a screen of moving characters, a form of expression vastly passive on the outside. and its fun to write too. it seems i want to do this, to express my thoughts. im here, accepted by the world in general around me, as someone doing something that one knows is OK to do, others have done it, and it doesnt cross the boundaries of normality, its acceptable.
there are things that i can identify that are outright questionable. all things are questionable as conditioned, acquired, and blindly accepted..one of the thought that comes into my mind, clothes..im wearing clothes because everyone is. and asking this question seems funny and annoying accoring to my idea of 'society'. but who makes this society complete, other than me? and let me remind the reader or the writer, that even in this moment of few lines and a reasonable speed, i am writing but to a reader who is not me..there it is, this issue of not being totally oneself, totally in all respects...i dont want to share anything, i neednt..how easily im in the habit to let go of this oneness and embrace the otherness...
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