Not being able to live is much worse than dying.

Fear. Fear. And more  Fear. 

Holding on to something. Anything. Grasp onto any shred of hope. Perhaps one day fear will no longer appear. But permanently reside and you will no longer feel its absence and its arrival. You can’t fear fear when that is all that there is to fear


Have it all 

You can have your god . You can have your faith . You can have your explanations that explain absolutely nothing but supply you with the excuse to move on. and you can have your senseless trust. You can choose to embrace yourself with this false sense of security and you can choose to decide and believe that everything happens in your favor as long as you believe even when they don’t, it is just better to repeat . You can ignore the truths screaming inside of you and all around you like you ignore the screams of those less fortunate and blessed than you . You can choose all of this and more and you can call yourself a true believer and a winner . You can choose all of this but it is only a choice that you have and that is more than a lot can say. And perhaps in that regards you are blessed to be born at an ignorant time where stupidity is rewarded and ignorance is praised as courage and strength. Hallelujah to all of us. And thank you god for your infinite kindness and for once again helping me find my wallet. So blessed .  


Down the third aisle you can stroll if you want to find some trolls giving away the jewels  

That aisle can hide the truth         

Like a child and a fairy stealing his tooth

Down that aisle we shop for smiles Pearly white, and perfectly aligned 

Down the third aisle we ask no proof to be filed                                 

No identification. We are never defiant 

Down the third aisle we each get a cart 

We shop till we drop 

Down another hole , another stage prop 

To be back in that place 

The third aisle where we are all packed and stacked 

Perfect cardboard boxes, freshly cut plastic smells. Awaiting the price tag for one’s denial. 

down the third aisle they can shop for us in piles 

If we just close our eyes , recite our  hymns and, pray for our buyers. 


– Excerpt –

–  Do you know what life is just like?

Well, Life is like a symphony. You may like it at first, even relate to it. It may conjure some living-like spirit of thoughts and emotions that holds you so deep. You feel you are right back there. So you feel safe again and think it is so soothing and mellow, slow yet rhythmic and in every delay and lingering in each note there is an absolute thrusting climax to be attained at the end of it , you enjoy it to the fullest at first. Then minute by minute it keeps going faster and faster, yet you still like it. Until it gets even faster, a little bit too fast for you, perhaps a bit obtrusive now. Your heart is beating and your senses are barely keeping up with the melody. Then your senses are barely keeping up with the memory of its need to keep up with that melody. Then a sharp cold tingly feeling comes hurling down your spine. It is so discomforting you don’t feel as safe and guarded anymore. And that’s so scary when there is nowhere to turn to in order to escape this. A shelter of some sort. Even for a little while. So you try and pause it, over and over again, until suddenly amidst your desperate attempts to lower the volume, rewind and/or pause it, it just stops. Only you are not ready, as it simply and promptly stops.  It is over and you did nothing because there was nothing to be done. And that’s not enough for you. It is not fair, that you are left behind. Once again, and this time for the last time you are late again. You couldn’t catch up. But as a selfish child you don’t care for your incompetence, you want the ride to wait for you to hop on. You want more of the pleasure and undoubtedly the thrill.  You want to make it, to succeed so you never have to face the facts and taste the failure and helplessness when that is all that is left on your plate.  As there is no more for you, and nothing more is to be said or done. So you try and remember the good times you had , the passing fleeting moments of satisfaction you had throughout the symphony that high rise that brought back to the moments where, you truly felt alive. And the thought crosses your mind every once in a while: if you can only pause it, and change it a little bit. Adjust it to your liking and needs, lower the volume, or set it in slow motion. such an uplifting thought. But unfortunately you must know by now that you can’t. No one can.



– Why is suicide considered a cowardice act? When in fact most, if not all people at some point or another fear death. The unknown. The end.

But the person that goes knocking on deaths door, surrendering themselves are weak? Going face to face with the unknown. The possible nothingness? Those who are ready to leave shouldn’t do so. Because we don’t believe that they should be? That no one in their right mind would do such a thing? Whose mind is it?

I find it quite ironic that people label those who commit an act they wouldn’t dare to do “Weak”.

Furthermore, why do we owe life to be strong? To put on the effort, to reach for the stars, to expand our horizons and never, ever give up?

And if not then we are deemed weak, less of, inept in a way even.

If there is one constant thing we know about living is that it ends. Now what happens afterward, is up for debate. Or speculations really. But we know that it ends. Death comes. We end.

But when someone takes charge of their own life, and a huge part of it which is death, that person is looked down upon. That person was weak. Selfish and all the condolences and the put on faces of disbelief can’t hide the fact that what we really can’t believe, can’t comprehend how someone can do this. Or don’t want to. No. because we already have the answer we need “life if for living”. We have a civil and moral duty to force everyone into believing so; for their own good. That they are better off alive, that everyone is.
And Obviously since we are still alive. We “put up with it” we “are strong enough to wait out the storm” And thus judge them if not even resent them for doing something that, in best cases we never thought of, and “worst” cases never had the courage to do. 

It is true that everyone is fighting a battle, in some way. But battles end. Sooner or later. And even though we know they do, maybe some don’t always want to wait for the end to approach.

Maybe some are just ready?

Maybe some are just ready to cross. Perhaps. Just perhaps the “when” is irrelevant in the bigger picture? But that thought can’t even be entertained when the preferred picture is the one where we desperately try to prolong life running around panting on the inside jumping from one new cutting edge discovery to the other, from raw diets to heal on the inside, to rejuvenating surgeries to appear healed on the outside, to, and that is my favorite one;  garnishing enough good deeds to make it for the afterlife.. The after party, where we really start living.

The thing is, No matter what you can never truly “understand” what someone is going through. You can sympathize, even relate. But you can’t with certainty feel every fiber of it. You simply can’t be the other person. Not for a minute to even feel an ounce of what they might be feeling. To comprehend a speck of their thought process. No matter how hard you try to convince that person, and yourself in the process that “it gets better” that is a promise you can’t guarantee.

 A promise you make to make yourself feel better for “doing the right thing” “Saying the right thing”. We turn someone’s life and decisions into our own script and we shout the lines across the stage for all of the cast to hear, over and over. And over until we end. The lights are out. The stage is empty.
You can promise a possibility of things getting better. But don’t we already know this? What if you no longer care for possibilities? For fleeting moments of joy, however long they are. What if, just if, you’ve had your fair share of joy and you want to leave now? What if you are simply, content?

We all end. Life ends. But ending it is yet somehow, wrong.

The truth of the matter is; no matter how hard we try to delay it death is part of living so respect that and truly live, and let live. In all that entails.

BUT on a final note if we can’t accept / respect someone’s choice then perhaps just choose our words carefully “Suicide is for the weak” said amongst those who are still living .. Well let’s put it this way; we can never know the impact it might have. After all every person who has ever committed suicide was, once, alive too. And I’m sure we would hate to think that we had anything to do with a cowardice act in any way. 


Life. Life is all about the choices you make. Or so we are told .

 Every action has a consequence.

You reap what you sow . 

… And all of these worn out claims We hear constantly echoing in our ears every time we fail. Every time we are left behind. Every time we , yet again, can’t seem to reach anything. 

We just didn’t make the cut.

Life is what you make of it. But if that is so , then wouldn’t the actions of those before us predetermine, or to some extent at least highly, if not even deeply affect our own beginnings and thus, possible choices we make and outcomes? Are our lives the consequences of those before us? And who is truly to blame. If there is blame to begin with. 

Then what is really , left up to us to decide. How much have we got ? How much is expected. And why. 

Why once again, are we fighting to push out these voices in our heads , these fingers pointed us from a higher stance “you brought this on yourself” ” you only have yourself to blame”  

–  what did we really expect ? When life owes you nothing , how much are you willing to convince yourself you owe yourself? 

She sat there scrolling through  the pages. watching , more like looking , at all of the pictures of her friends . How they’ve grown . How they are doing, what they are doing, but most importantly everyone they are surrounded by . This was nothing new. She has been here before . And certainly was no shock that she knew most of the people in those pictures.  After all , one time ; at the beginning of it all, she was their friend too. 

The story always starts the same. And ends the same too. 

So here you go; surprise , surprise. She has managed , once again to push every one far away from her. She is left with the , all so familiar , bitter sweet taste. That , unlike her, never fails to disappoint. Specifically when  all it did was supply her demand. 

People no longer included her or even expected her to want to be included. Rightfully so , after all that was exactly what she was aiming for. What she’s always aimed for in every relationship she’s ever had. Always leave before they do. Never be available on all levels. Make sure they know you never really want to be a part of them, especially when you most need it. Because, well… you really shouldn’t. 

(You only have yourself to blame) – She often thought to herself . Putting herself in their shoes she wouldn’t want to be around herself as well. 

It may sound stupid, absurd and utterly uncalled for. Her behavior , that is. But it is the only one she can master. The only one that truly resonates with her. The one she truly, truly detests but excels at. 

The truth of the matter is she has mastered the art of failing before she had actually failed. The art of being in that dark lonely pit when she wasn’t put there yet. It is just easier to predict, foresee and, act accordingly before it catches up on her unexpectedly. If failure was the inevitable outcome of life then it would do her best to decide when and how. Because then at least , she’s succeeded in failing. 

Perhaps, like everything else in life , Success is relative too. And as long as you can reiterate to yourself that you “did it!” you can slowly push the other voices out ; the ones screaming at you that you only have yourself to blame. After all, You would end up with nothing to blame yourself for when, you have truly , and sadly succeeded in what you have set your mind onto. I did it . Not them. 

Pathetic, but necessary, and its necessity births its legitimacy. she made herself believe. After all , life is what you make of it. 

Or so we are told. 


There is a man hugging a tree. No, not a tree hugging, nature loving peacenik by the looks of his polished Italian leather loafers. He is simply a man. A young man hugging a tree. In the middle of the crowded streets of San Francisco. People are passing by. They look at him. Glance for a second or two, then move on. Like I said he is a clean looking man. With sunglasses too. Perhaps I didn’t mention his overall appearance and how he looks clean and shaved, but I presumed the Italian loafers; the polished pair. Gave that away.

The man is hugging the tree. He is not a scary looking man. Not a homeless raggedy looking man. So why is no one stopping? Because he is a man hugging a tree. And he doesn’t look threatening. He looks simply like a man hugging a tree. And people don’t want to be bothered why people do the things they do. They simply like jumping to their own conclusions as to why this man is hugging a tree; why anyone would hug a tree.

“One too many pills mixed with a drink or two”. A lot would assume. Perhaps some sort of “herbal soul -cleansing halluceginic? “

Maybe he is experiencing whatever people are willing to believe they have no control over when they are “under the influence”

A man passed by him. Holding a toddler. Stopped and asked him if he were alright. Now immediately everyone is given another green light to pass another judgment;

who in their right minds approaches a man hugging a tree in the city with a toddler in their arms?”

A man holding a toddler approaching another man hugging a tree. That’s who.

Another man stops by. He stops to take a photo of the young man hugging the tree. The man seems annoyed. He is annoyed that there is something off with his lenses, the focus of his camera is shifting. He can’t get a good picture or clear shot of the man hugging the tree…. Or maybe, he is simply annoyed, while taking a picture. Perhaps he is just an annoyed man taking a picture.  Who said there is a rule of general serenity and kept composure to be encompassed when taking a photo?

Now what if this had been an experiment of a man hugging the tree and how the people would react? To shine a light on the cruelty of the human race. The stage people are in now. In this fast moving world, where they simply can’t be bothered without anything but a snap quick judgment.

Well, in that case then perhaps I should probably stop typing this while looking at the man hugging the tree.

Let’s proceed with hopes that it isn’t a filmed experiment. Yes, my own embarrassment and fear of exposed hypocrisy of pointing out people’s cruelty and lack of kindness overwhelms my hope, or lack thereof, that this young man, is an actor. And doesn’t need any real help.

A very fragile looking thin and short old lady passes by with three full bags of cans and empty bottles. This old woman doesn’t even bother, or just simply doesn’t acknowledge this young man. One would wonder if maybe this old woman had, had her fair share of young men hugging trees.

Right across the street from this tree that is currently being shown affection and being cuddled. Is a store with a rainbow flag on it. Now we all know what the rainbow flag represents. Unity and acceptance, but above all; love. Love is love and love unites. Or something of that nature describing love as the answer . Perhaps it is . To everything . But it is not to be found , unfortunately everywhere. No. That would be too convenient for people.

So on the other hand, we have those people who believe in love and , have fought and still are fighting for years and years for these simple rights. And now in a lot of the parts in the world their fights, endless efforts and bravery are celebrated with rainbow flags and marches in remembrance of these brave individuals.

So perhaps there is a different type of love here between this man and the tree. No one really knows what this tree means to this man. Or what any given tree could mean to someone. Somehow the idea of an infatuation in trees and the bravery of a young man who dared to express his undying love for the tree doesn’t really seem that far-fetched, but yet, somehow it is ?

No, this young man is probably not expressing his love for the tree. And if he is then he is doing a terrible job at it.

Is this considered a case of public disturbance? Are we disturbed? Can someone pick up the phone and claim that a man hugging a tree is causing us to fear for ourselves, he is not hugging us. In fact two friends just met in front of the young man hugging the tree and they, hugged one another.

A group of hipsters, I’m sorry if perhaps by the time whoever you are reading this the term “hipster” is suddenly offensive. Then in this case, a group of young men, with no particular distinguishing apparel traits passed by. Laughed at the young man hugging the tree, and kept walking.

Are you still reading this? You must know by now that this is simply an article of some sort, of a young man who is hugging a tree.  And that is all that there is to it.
The end