Missed Calls & Unanswered Messages

The screen is persistently pulsed and ominously smashing dark in the room while Jeff Beck played an amazing solo on the song "What God Wants, Part III 'Roger Waters. It is interesting to us things like that are not from this world learn about the world in which we live. It reminds me of the eternal dance of positives and negatives. There is one thing for another, but at the same time are mutually absolutely contradictory. Just like all those cliches about light and darkness, or good and evil. But soon all the balances to the intensity of action Ibuprofen stronger. At this point, the perfectly framed by what recently habitually call life.

Missed calls and unread messages accompany me as a constant reminder that the same life goes on even when everything seems stagnant.

Chaos is a process, a temporary state of affairs. Today is the only station on the long road from disorder into order. These days, few live in the present. I'm not interested, but what's your excuse? However, what if the present is really the only thing that exists, and all the rest are false concepts arising from our limited understanding of time? The future, unknown and inevitable is only a matter of perception. Yesterday was just discarded now. There is no day in which I have not dreamed of returning to the past, but we humans can exist only in one point, the striking of the hour that can never happen again. We have no past, only a memory, subjective and often fragile. Unless these moments never even existed, but we exist only to me, and now we are still there. I lost the need to seek the truth. I'd rather write lies that could be lost to the extent that I do not hear the damn phone. Then place where those sweet lies come suddenly disappears...

No matter how many times moved again, more rarely offering anything new. Koračaš you thin ice, it is appropriate to return to their steps, but what if you only heighten the cracks that have never been deeper? The best dialogue I've never put on paper, others in dreams. I did not need no one until I had a blank page. Everything I wrote is ultimately just a mixture of my personality and everything I read, they will say that I am at best an authentic copy. I refused to be like them so much, that it was as good enough. In fact, ninety percent pure garbage, even for my standards. Nothing more views of the idea that you're special. But actually I was jealous of them, because they run out of words that you can not stop creative crisis, but a miserable capitulation and affirmation of weakness. When I turned back a blank page, I have published more than a rash promise that I will never stop. Therefore, today I stand behind these words. They are not a facade, because there is no facade. There is nothing that I did not own, just an empty existence. There is nothing special in existence if it is not you.

Missed calls and unread messages are between me and peace. The screen still pulsing in the darkness like a beacon on the bare rocks, somewhere in the vastness of alienation. So many times the waves broke from him, but he persistently flashing, blindly serving the society that created it. Contrary to common sense, I want to hear again. Passion despised intellect every occasion. That voice, quiet and pleasant. The texture of my doom, all I ever wanted. Just like the aforementioned rocks, which helplessly expected new sea wave that is breaking down on her, I know I'll answer. But the hardest rocks only apparently remains the same, it will erode to the point of disappearance. As expected, we humans have not rocks, our discernment is much more porous. Willpower or ordinary defeatism in dealing with the inevitability of what in recent years out of habit we call life? I'm not sure that there is a difference.