"...it is such a peculiar thing how your actions speak in different manners to different people. How your very own way of being becomes somewhat like a business card that random individuals pick up and then discuss it without reading. I remember this guy S, let's call him that. He told me once : "Boy you must really hate us people, going to clubs, drinking and paying a shitload of money for basicly nothing." I arched my brow and asked why would I do that? So he went on: "Well you, going on your little trips and writting your poetry and being deep and everything; you must think the rest of the world is a damp place filled to exhaustion with shallowness." I laughed. I really did, yet I felt like I owed the man an aswer: "Truth be told, the thought did cross my mind. But I did realise that all of that is none of my concern. What you choose to do with your life affects you and you only. I could tell you that your music is shit, that the people you meet are idiots or the life you live is meaningless. That everyone you know thinks you're either fat, or stupid, or horribly disfigured and laugh at that plentifuly. I could tell you that you are not loved but tolerated for your financial potential. And you could say that I'm a faggot for writting poetry or say that I'll end up in some parking lot in a god forsaken country, begging for change. You could say that I lack depth and all my motives are actually rooted in my unability to coexist with others. And the list goes on. But how would we know all that? By looking over some pictures? By listening to some empty shell of a man talking about us behind our backs? We couldn't possibly know. For all I know you might be living a life of sweet delight. Maybe you wake up everyday with a smile on your face, being thankful for being blessed with the marvelous souls around you to share this short but glorious trip through life. Maybe your heart races to a different beat. To different music. Maybe your people do admire you and your life is filled with purpose. Or maybe not. But really now, how would I know? And would you listen to me? Would you take my word if I talked about YOUR life in any way? Of course not. I wouldn't take your word for it either. To be honest I couldn't care less about what you do and how you spend whatever resources you've got. If it keeps you alive in this world by all means do it. I don't claim to know some sort of universal truth that you've been severed from. I don't think you are blind nor deaf nor stupid for living the way you do. I believe that you are enslaved by something only if you believe it to be so. If you need God, or heroin, or any other savior, do go ahead and bring homage to any of them. We all have some sort of choices to make. Just don't act like yours are better than mine. That's just being a condescending piece of shit." - The Book I Never Wrote by Marius Cristian