who is really happy
what defines happiness?
I love writing, publishing is selling what you love...that I can't love, but you do have to eat, live somewhere, cloth yourself...
i found myself too intelligent to work, to be part of the system
the system being part of us, awakening to become part of the world, of existence, of the march until the end of the road, the journey
is it a journey, I've always imagined that journey littered with joy, but there is really no joy, just always wondering whats ahead and can you handle it, wondering what there is in the end...
like all I have always wondered, why we exist...
not there yet but I'm sure I see how it works...
when we die, however that happens, no matter how painful and aggravating, we move from the corporeal body to something in between and then we are born again as a child...childhood is the hell we imagine, starting over, we are never told details, but we definitely again, knowing what or who we were...but as a child we don't have the capacity to act on it and we suffer because we know what to do but we don't have the capacity deal with it
before we die
we must know we will come back
how to make sure we know when and how and how to dictate we come back...
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