Mumbles. My mumbles. I mumble a lot.

Es geht nicht um "jetzt" oder "später". Es geht nicht um die Zeit.

Es geht um die falsche Hoffnungen, und die gebrochene Herzen.

Und genau da fehlt die Gerechtigkeit.

There is no greater pleasure; Than uncovering a literary treasure.

Just when I though the internet was filled with racist comments, I found a poetry genius lurking in the undergrowth of what is a jungle of pessimism.

This gave me hope, life.

Ever met someone, who wrote poetry, as if she has flipped through the pages of your own life?

It's good that you're there.

Your presence reminds me of a person: My own self, way back then.

A person that I could not find the energy, the desire nor the strength to go back to.

But it's good to be reminded of the good old days.

First cardinal sin of creative writing: Writing about your life and the people around you.

Except if it's an autobiography of course.

It's not like blogging. The author is usually someone you know personally, going on rambling about his life, to which maybe you're involved. Where most of the time you won't mind it so much.

But this is different. I'm trying to get around this by being as fictional as I can. There are a few great ideas, but that's it. You don't want to inappropriately mention those around you, those whom you care about. And it could be let out in the general public, or worse, be misinterpreted. Which is horrible.

Thus the fictitious part.

So far, the only workable way this could happen is if it's a motion picture, but, the challenge is to make it interesting in writing.

This is where I hit a wall. A dead end.

Not being in a creative environment, this helps. But I'm not really creative in the first place. I lean more to the technical side of life. Simple and logical. Black and white. Trying switch sides of the brain is definitely a mountain of a task.

But hey. Let's expand the main character, and see where this takes us eventually.

Quoting Mimi:

"Life is made complicated for us to appreciate the complexity of life too. To understand, the spectrum of life"

Life sure is complicated though. The existence of fine lines, if I am to be direct.

On one hand, one would prefer to stand his ground, be firm about his decisions. Alas there is a fear of crossing said line, fearing that it would offend the other party involved. To be accused of intolerance, hard-headed, not being able to listen.

Having crossed said invisible line, one feels guilty for doing so, so instead accepts what is thrown upon him, having to swallow his pride along the way. Which makes him feel like what he thinks, don't really matter.

It's hard, treading on invisible boundaries.

Somehow, things in black and white appeal to me.

Because to me, therein lies a weird and unexplainable emotional connection, somehow that image speaks to me.

I feel moved.

No complexity, no shades of colours, but just that of black and white.

Of course photo editing is a simpler task when I prefer it that way, but really. It touches that special spot.

It's like falling in love, granted it is not as complicated.

I'm just thankful I've been given this blessing of appreciating things that are simple.

 “Mary is so childish. She thinks if you put a toy down it will still be sitting there when you want to play with it again,” - Lord Grantham

Couldn't have said it better. Coincidence? Highly probable. Must say, once is enough.

I know, I've been such a Downton Abbey addict.

Inadequacy.

Imagine that feeling, where you constantly feel, inadequate. Nothing you ever do is good enough. Or the people around you are always achieving better things than you. You're not exactly envious, but don't you feel you deserve the same?

And to have people ever constantly throw their judgements upon you.

Imagine, feeling like filth.

You've tried, God knows you've tried your hardest. But either luck wasn't on your side, or bad things just have a quicker pace in catching up with you.

And imagine, feeling inadequate for a very, very long time. Most of your youth in fact, where you should feel ever more alive rather than closer to death's edge. Now imagine feeling like a zombie. Where your soul and body doesn't seem to be in the same place.

So if you were me, what would you do?