Sometimes I feel like people are out there doing important things, living their lives while I'm stagnant. I just read an article here that was so informative it got me thinking about the country in which I live. Cause it's true. When a man kills himself they condemn him to hell and move on. They don't stop to think of tue why of it all. What if he had depression?
People glorify holding things in. People hate when you come to them for help. People love begging. People who would use others to ascend would never turn and lend a hand. You can imagine my disappoinment. As a child I did everything I could to help whoever I could, just to grow up and need that help and instead be kicked...around. By life. By fam. By people I called friends. Once bitten twice shy but when you're bitten thirty times how about then?
If you fight for your humanity, to not treat others differently then you're weak. If you give up and become as selfish as everyone else then already you're living. This is me being faux deep. This is me accepting my deeds. This is me exploring the different ways to literacy. This is beginning of the end of my beginning.
