The desert of the real

"None is more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe that they are free."

 The day was exhausting. It's almost two o'clock in the morning on a hot summer night and I'm laying on my bed smoking the tenth malboro listening to some relaxing music. My stomach is digesting itself and the half bottle of whiskey I consumed in the last two hours, for I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. I want to take a look outside the window to witness our maker's greatest creation, just to make me feel better.

 But the poison in mind is in effect. I can't see the world. All I see is a system. And this system is everywhere. It's my appartment, the clothes I wear, the music I like. It makes me obey when it has to stabilize and it makes me retaliate when it sees fit to change it's leader. It has spread nice and warm all over to hide the dominant truth.

 That we are slaves. That we were born in bondage. Born in a prison, where everything we see, smell or feel is part of the plan. A prison for the mind.

 Being part of a system means being under it's control. Salesmen, politicians, actors, doctors, me, you, we are all under control, manipulated by any means, it has been using and disgracing the most sacred things to make us set our minds to achieve their goal, to win the crown for them. And some of us are so hopelessly dependent on this system that we even fight to protect it.

 Having this thoughts I feel desperately weak, and no matter how much alcohol I consume, I cannot feel any stronger. The world seems darker and darker and my last thought as I fall asleep is if questioning this reality is also part of the plan.

Valkyrie

''Words scarcely inspire inspiration. Action always do''

 Today I took the last bus home from work as usual. The night was freaking hot, and with no air-conditioning I felt like I was melting in a plastic container. The bus is almost empty, there are two guys who I always meet during this route, one of them going home from work, and the older one does something downtown which I couldn't care less to know.

 But it's not just us. On the back there are three people, two guys and a girl. They are talking loud and strange. They can't keep their mouth in command, their bodies look weak and skinny. Their skin seems like full of scars, their clothes old, dirty and weared-off. And their eyes red within their black eye sockets, as if they're about to fall off from their skull.
 
 Through all of these years hanging out downtown I got used to the sight of wasted junkies. But that doesn't mean I feel nice having them around. Usually my guts turn inside out just in the thought of their rotten inner self and the diseases they might be carring.

 Once I tried to understand them you know. Being enslaved to something is the worst humiliation, even if it's not something like drugs, even if it's something like not being able to stay away from a computer for a day, or to surrender to your gluttonous desires all the time. Not beacause you have to, but because you need to.

 We already have the potential for greatness, to live our lives free from any addiction controlling our body, mind and life.We are not meant to live our lives in slumber..

Rat race

''You see doctor, God didn't kill that little girl. Fate didn't butcher her, and destiny didn't feed her to those dogs. If God saw what any of us did, he didn't seem to mind. God doesn't make the world this way. We do.''
 
 Today I called an old friend of mine and went outside to have a nice cup of coffee. Too much stress is bad for my health, and with the cloudy weather leaving it's place for the sun to fit in, it was a nice opportunity.

 Amongst the staff we discussed, was the situation in Syria. Having a few relatives there he knew first hand the situation. Even though I've seen some of the footage online, and I was already shocked of the atrocities taking place, I could never believe that they would take it to that level. Their army broke into houses and executed infants under the excuse that they were kin and offspring of the rebels.

 I could never imagine that even though we live in a rather advanced age, we would bring back biblical tyrants. Even in a war, their is morality, there should be. Instead our species is calling genocide 'collateral damage'.

 Killing in the name of idealism, you should be expecting to be killed in the name of the opposition. By oppressing the mass, you should be expecting a violent eruption. Control is an illusion, and the only way to escape this illusion, is lose it.