How is it possible that you find a girl, start talking to her day and night, a week passes and… she’s gone with some other guy that you never thought there was anything between them… What is the explanation to this illogical thing? How is this possible? But the worst thing is not over… because you still love her but you don’t talk to her like before. You are not the same person as before because you are not capable of understanding what just happened in the past days, weeks, years. How did the world change form something happy to the saddest place… all this in a matter of seconds.

Now the biggest problem is that you are still not over her. How to get rid of these emotions? You can’t just switch off a button… that is not human.  I wish it would be something that easy. I think the only solution is to start all over again. Start to find a new girl and don’t commit the same mistake as before… just act… and don’t wait her to make the move.

Poem by Neelam Khare

Children stripped naked on streets,
Beaten to death.
For revenge?

Families living with fear,
Never knowing if they’re next.

They are the enemies,
Communism Vs. Capitalism,
Good Vs. Evil,
But are we any different?

Classifying which weapons are just & unjust,
When the soul purpose is to kill.

Billions of dollars spent.
A few making money,
At the cost of others lives.
Just?

We go in to fight “evil,”
But only when we benefit.
Just?

Girls being raped,
Guns pointed leaving holes in their bodies.
Just?

A field full of blood,
Millions of civilians dead,
Massacre everywhere,
Spread of diseases,
Bombs being dropped,
Shrapnel metal leaving holes in bodies,
Children screaming for their parents,
Parents crying for their child.
Just?

War.
Rape, Ravage, Murder.
NEVER JUST!

I hope to find interesting people who are willing to discuss with me: what is the point of life. An unsolved question that has many answers.

For my first post I will like to include the lyrics of the band TRAGEDY song title CONFLICTING IDEAS:

When the scientists find our remnants, what will they say? When they find our bloated carcasses, ridden with sickness and cancer’s, what will they find? And what… what will they say?

Will they recognize our self-abuse as a product of the abusive hands that molded our lives?

Or will we remain, a mystery?

Deformed from malnourishment, our blood coagulated and inced with disease: the preservatives, the alcohol, the cigarettes. The meat we gorged ourselves on, for all those years.

Will they recognize our self abuse as a product of the abusive hands that molded our lives?

(As experts scratch their heads, as doctors shake their hands and wonder what we’ve done.)

This song pretty much expresses what I am feeling during these days of my life. I can’t understand why people have to ABUSE ABUSE ABUSE and ABUSE of everything they can. Why people can’t be moderated?