Come Hither.

Medications for the inside.


Unanticipated circumstances, are exclusively created by unpredictable people - people out of the norm. Predictable people, take for example the very individual I have in mind ( and perhaps, the individual's counterpart, otherwise known as 'follower' ) while typing this antagonistic paragraph, are soporific. They are so decipherable, so lucid, that their double-dealing, hypocritical, even pharisaic traits, backfired, of course, on nobody but themselves. Ironic, I say. I guess, perhaps, they are just not conscious of the opinions and impressions others have towards them, let alone the size of their opposing parties - the ones they're dealing with. All it takes is an observer, an on-looker, to tell this much. The outcome, like its cretin hosts, is very much, predictable.

And the unpredictable people? We stand back, laughing at their sorry state. Story goes, it takes one to know another. Pity we belong to vastly different wavelengths. So your frequency is very much clear on my side. And it's child's play to penetrate.

Needless to say, this paragraph is well-intended, and obviously directional. Readers that find this offensive, please kindly exit this page with just one click on the 'x' on your top right-hand corner. Your co-operation is very much appreciated, lest the following unpredictable content agitates the living shit out of your casuistic being. So, goodbye, farewell, my friend. Your enlightenment stops here.





I think, it's a problem that people are considered immoral if they're not religious. That's just not true. This might earn me some enemies, but in some ways they may be even more moral. If you do something for a religious reason, and you do it because you'll be rewarded in an afterlife, or in this world. That's not quite as good as something you do for purely generous reasons. The worst I feel is when I'm benefiting from someone else's tragedy. This idea haunts me. It's something I have to reckon with every day, because I know that if I ever allow genuine compassion to be over-taken by personal ambition, I will have sold my soul. The only way I can justify my role is to have respect for the other person's predicament. The extent to which I do, that is the extent to which I become accepted by the other, and to that extent I can accept myself. Yet souls have been auctioned, souls have been sold. This is a repetitive cycle, till retirement, or physical death.



I can already taste the essence of freedom, the ending of soul-selling, the grasp of having a life. Now go, feed on my euphoria.



A rush of blood.