The Disorder Of Self :: essays research papers

The disorder of selfEveryday liven down in the burrows and sorrows of suburbia has driven this man to be driven in deals. A mad boredom and day-dreams of aristocracy silently sought against him in a weather of falsehood and bored imagination sought to find nub it whats not. Slews of meaningless words thrown around to picture ideals of a better place utmostther than the boundaries of outlying sidewalks and imaginary fences make around gardens keeping menacing things absent. People paired up to dream twice as hard and reach twice as far as ever hoped before. Grown madness sickening the air with countless fret and ever-growing anticipation of the unknown. Just a few steps away from the halfway point to turn around and give up, walked with hope as if on that point was ever an end. Finding meaning in the walk of sorrow, take a skewed voice of satisfaction in accepting the ageless perils too great to accept. Hopelessness breeding an autonomy of hope when travel so far it is th e highs that are low and lows high. Moral satisfaction brought in the god that is the common misunderstanding and brotherhood sought to complete the banding of murkiness. Loving those who are dreamers and reconcileters like the common self helps giving up the fact that there is no end, so if why not quit, than quit hoping to be happy and crush the inner-self sought for self-preservation? This dream brought mysteriously and cerebrations locate on a field so easy to play that there are no rules. Suppression breeds violence like suppression of violence, and the circle continues. The average middle child thrown into a madness of wonder and trouble to speak his voice clearly to repent parents shame gift on themselves. A stepping-stone of wishes, an undergarment of confusion, a tornado of torment and masochistic wishes omitted alone to withdraw part of the sorrow burying all day by day lives. A need to be human, or human like only a human would call itself, and understanding the transverse sentiment of thinking forward in time and time is a thought. The sudden actualisation that it is real, or not real, and there was no realization, so there was confusion yet no confusion, only a thought, still a thought of the envisioned madness of what a thought is. Pure rejection of all that is misinterpret to understand, and be sane to ignore and accept what everyone cannot accept.