_Comfort Zones


Spat on my eyes the graffiti in front of a super massive council estate complex in Bermondsey. Was I? Well, most likely no, I wasn´t. Not at the time, for many reasons. I don´t particularly seek to analyze those reasons right now, as per they belong in my recurrent set of mind activity only and there is no point in advertising them here, or anywhere for that matter.

However, even if I ignored these things, I still wasn´t comfortable. And I am not yet.

There is no words to describe how much I despise the modern social conventions created to give individuals the ability to overcome lack of life fulfillment. You name it: God. Charity. Viral online campaigns.

Fuck off with this stuff already.

My comfort zone is in a place where only a few people can go, in a place where I don´t need to live to anyone else´s standards anymore. I accept my incapacity to overcome world´s injustice, and I refuse to be content with the mainstream trend of selective altruism that serves only one purpose: Save one´s ego from that same incapacity.

I live in acceptance: The World is hell, the world is war, the word is a disgusting joke yet I love to be alive and appreciate the moments of rare beauty that I happen to come across.

Deception is for the weak and the fake.