dear diary
it been a while since i write to you
things.... well, have been different for me
like really really different
I slowly recognize who i really am
looking back at my older diary
and see how much I have grow from back then
it kind of pleases me
but it also kills me a little
I roll up and down
all night going back to the same thought
Why do we do anything we do, even if it is unpleasantly deadly
my answer to this was that
to a certain extent, maybe despite being mostly unpleasant,
there is an element of reward inside it
and that very element of reward drives us to repeat the same thing
but.... doesn't that means the halt of growing?
I mean... of course you can choose to stop growing
Growing up is painful,
and if you can't handle that pain
then why not just live miserably and blindly
if it is happy why break the bubble..
but that not how reality work doesn't it?
ironic, reality should be where all the real tough bullshit happens
but examining closely
you realize that reality actually is based off a series of coincidence
and once again it goes back to the same question
why do we do anything we do or think
I guess it for each one of us to ask ourselves
and each one of us to find it ourselves