Wishes For The Kinder Hearts

Remember those lovely genies who grant wishes? Well, you’re one and you’ve just been emancipated from your restrictive lamp. You can give your three wishes to whomever you want. Who do you give your three wishes to, and why?

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Regardless of the fact that I’d be green, being a genie would be pretty badass. I’d have the ability of flight. I’d be able to have supernatural strength and much more. But I don’t think living in a tiny container for years would be that enjoyable.

If I were to be released from my lamp, I’d probably save my wishes for someone who needs it.

I won’t go giving a million dollars to my sister. And I won’t make my best friend the world’s top Olympic swimmer. No, I’d probably go around looking for someone who wants to eliminate disease. Or someone who wants to give every single oppressed person his/her freedom or dignity back.

I wouldn’t simply give it to someone, I’d seek someone who’s pure of  heart, someone who could perceive the value of the three mutters of I want.

Although I know there’s no one who’s pure. But someone who can think of other people, besides her/himself. Is pure enough for me. Someone who’s stories usually end with someone else. Who knows, maybe if s/he is pure-ish, they’d be in for a treat.

Stumbling Upon Myself

I haven’t really met anyone special year.

But on the course of the last and this year,  I’ve met someone who became a huge part of my life. Actually, he became all of me, and my life.

I met me.

There were a lot of changes in my life in the past couple of years. I don’t what it was, but I think I’ve grown, not the occasional teenager growth, something else.

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have seen things like I do now two years ago. And that’s normal. But, awkwardly, I’ve tried new things. I thinkI was always the Comfort Zone guy. I don’t really remember myself two years ago, which makes me think of how easy it is for us-humans-to change in the light of a few minor occasions. Or maybe they only seem minor.

Through the course of the last two years, many events occurred to me. They seemed minor at the time, but now, looking back, they seem to be some of the most influential things that happen to a person in a life time.

For one, my oldest sister got married. I was diagnosed with Panic Disorder, I started reading passionately, I started writing, I started to see people for real, and to perceive people. My sister had a son. And I learned that sometimes being the better-man isn’t good enough.

I started to be different, from the person I was and from every body else around me. But it’s just who I am. Even though it bothers some people. It’s just me.

And as hard as it was, I actually realized, that sticking with your ethics is very important to be a good person. But what about being a respected person? Unfortunately, nowadays, not replying a curse with another is a sign of weakness. But I’ve made a deal with myself, that I would never give in to the retardedness of the community. (Yes. I know that’s not a real word.)

Yes I’ve met me. And I’m still getting to know me. And I think I will never finish. There would never be enough time for me to learn all the aspects of me.

The Horrible, Sad, Overdramatically Told yet Lesson Teaching, Wisening Stories Of Death In My Not So Miserable Life #1

So hard to not cry, I wasn’t even there, he just died on me! I hated him for it. But I couldn’t stop crying.

On the way home, I changed my phone’s wallpaper to a photo of him, laying in the bed, extending his hands like his dead. He is now.

I’d edited the words “Shh, an angel sleeping” onto the photo in pale pink font, my sister looked over my shoulder, and saw I was passing my thumb over the screen, itching to touch him. She told me to stop. She acted like she wasn’t sad, but she’d already cried with me earlier.

I hated myself more that I hated the whole thing, back then. Because, while I was in another city, eating in Hardee’s, taking walks. He just got poisoned and died. Not entirely alone, but still, he was alone, he was dying.

And I was probably having fun. When he spent the whole night choking on the disinfectant. Why did he do that?

All of my family cried, my eldest sister cried all night, while we were asleep, my mom wept a little, and I went in a wailing spree in the morning, I knew he was going to die; we’d got the news late in the night before, but I prayed to God he wouldn’t. And when he did, I acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal for the first 2 minutes, but the following 20 minutes were an undisturbed series of maniac howling noises. And my other sister cried too. I even bet my brother did, he was with him when it happened. But we never talked about it.

I wanted to know where he was buried, but they wouldn’t tell me. I picked a nice place under the shade of some bushes and claimed this was where he was buried though. It was in front of my house so I could visit him daily. I don’t anymore.

When we reached home, I ran to his sister, and I just hugged her and kissed her. I ran my hands through her dark, short fur. and squeezed her to my chest, hearing her rapid heart beat. Not caring about her claws digging into my arms. I scratched behind her ears and she purred, and I promised I’d never let her go. I never did.

Now, I’ve got a new cat with the sister. And they’re very happy together. And I learned that what ever happens, is already written, and we just can’t OCD our loved ones into a padded room and hug them safe. I still fear the loss of my beloved Victoria. But I know I must live my life.

18 Minutes Of Thoughts. On A Bus

Enrolling to the Daily Post’s Blogging University was a very easy thing. Just type you’re E-mail address, your name and press join/apply/I really don’t remember.

But now, today’s assignment is about writing your thoughts stream. As don’t think, don’t draft, don’t plan. Simply type, and then publish.

But honestly, I don’t usually plan my posts. But I still have an idea or a little blurry figure figured out. But today, I decided not to have an idea; I’m trying to stop my mind from thinking. This is harder than it sounds, especially when you’re an overthinking teenager who thinks in his sleep.

I decided to make a blog, because I like to write. I’m not sure if I’m an amazing writer, or even a good one, I just liketo write.

I as all humans have always wanted to be known, I wouldn’t like to go by life and not do something. Life’s not about being noticed though, but since I’m here, I can do something with it-it being life-at least.  As long as I don’t overlook my duties towards God and my family, Why not do the things I love, and maybe get something out of doing them as well.

But really, I don’t think money can’t buy you happiness; it can buy happiness alright, but what kind of happiness? The real happiness, the one that lasts even after you’re broke or dead. Or the happiness that fades away once your net worth drops.

In the end, People go on with their lives, each on his own way. But when it’s all over, there will be no difference between us. We will all be one thing, mere humans. Only what you chose to do with your life is what will make you more than that.

Pray for me, as I do for you. And may the odds be ever in your favor.