It's funny to think about the answers to a few questions. Like, what are you planning to do? I don't know. Who am I? I'm not very sure I can answer that.
I've also been using "it's funny" too much.
It ain't exactly funny.
When we think too much it's not fun at all.
I'm not sure what should I be writing right now. This was a very... informative night I guess. Why are we different people when in the presence of different people? Should we be the same always?
I've been thinking about stories to tell. One specifically designed for a flight situation. But it just gets too cheesy to come out. The ones that stand out are more horror-friendly.
I won't be following most of the advices I'll receive these times. But I like to hear 'em, I really do. I feel like my words are crumbling just like my face. Maybe I just need some sleep. Someday I will sleep and it will all be fine. Maybe some ultra fancy hotel, with those very expensive sheets and whatever else they can technologically enhance in a bed. That sounds good. I'll probably have learned how to take of my appearance by then.
But while we are here, and I am really glad you are here, I'd like to tell you about something I did a few days ago.
I shall call it, the Rose Hunt Day.
It all started a few years ago with an idea, but that's not very important right now. We got some flowers, 10 of them, to be exact. They were pretty, red roses aren't my thing but at least we chose them in a way to pick what we felt as the prettiest available.
We went there by car, it took a while because the traffic wasn't the best, and we were... a little bit lost. But being lost during a journey is a great part of the journey, in many aspects of the word great.
It felt... strangely good.
I expected it to feel good actually, since it was supposed to be a good deed. And they say doing good things make you feel good inside. Feeling good inside means at least that you're not so empty.
We delivered roses to 10 random people, some who asked, and some who were the main targets of the plan. The initial main targets were people who were alone and felt sad, or at least felt like they could use a rose. It ended up as being just alone and looking like would like to receive a random rose from random strangers in an ordinary night. Albeit some minor mishaps, which were mostly caused by my inability to be a social being, it was an outstanding success. I hope we can go for some more Rose Hunts. I hope the project can be expanded to more than once a month. I hope it is for good.
It sucks to take a glance at the possibility of an empty and desperate act of receiving gratefulness just to feel less negative.
But let's stop being so negative.
Sometimes we feel like we are raging psychos, doomed to remain in one mind.
I can't feel like you do.
I can't demonstrate feelings like you do.
I can't act like you do.
And I am confused.
It feels like showing happiness in ways that could be condemned as shameful or reckless is the right thing.
How do we achieve right?
Second confession.
I've considered buying some kick ass tee shirts for people. I think that's a truly desperate attempt at getting attention.
Hope you would like receiving that shirt.
But don't worry, I control.
Everything is under control.
Control is everything.
