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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door

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Random 'I can'ts' and vigilant 'I won'ts'

I'm thinking.

Philosophers along the centuries have all stressed the importance of thinking.

I can't do it right, the thoughts rushing through my molecular brain that is already filled with sinus fluid, the grind of the head, I shall call it. It's basically the happening of pollen grains hitting the air in the fall, disguised as particles of dust or as air itself, breathed in by people like me, ones that depend so much on their thoughts, the fools. The grains produce a bacterial thing that causes sinus voids to release some sort of mucus into the head. The ears, the eyes, the brain, and the neck ; they're all on the same list. Like me, they find it hard to run.

I've never trusted doctors. They're all frauds, money hunters, just like everybody else. They're not men of God, they're not angels; what good are they? The moment you walk into their office they write you a couple medications and ask you to come back a week later for another check up, another 50-500 pounds out of your wallet. They keep trying all sorts of newly produced medicines on their patients, their guinea pigs, when it could only be a bad case of influenza.

They also say that half of the healing process is based on trusting your doctor's advice.

How come they make us sign a statement that relieves the doctor of any responsibility whatsoever in case of several whatevers including death? Why don't we make them sign a statement as well the moment we walk into their office for advice?

I'd never be a doctor myself. If I ever were one, I wouldn't recommend myself. I wouldn't trust my own judgment on people. Who am I to decide what is right and what is wrong for strangers? Who'd give me the right?

Been there and done that. The medications ain't helping either.

The headaches still stand tall and proud, that fucking leprechaun.

Eventually, that's when I'd turn to God for help and guidance. I've been turning to Him a lot lately, asking Him for signs and answers, but the road is just too vague for me to follow.

Maybe this is my sign. Maybe I should stop and think. Reconsider.

I just don't know anymore. Maybe I don't need a doctor. Maybe I need an exorcist.

Maybe I'll just wake up and find that I'm 15 again and everything's the same way I left it a decade ago.

If only I was that lucky, but I don't believe in luck.

Isn’t it true that when people use the words 'chance', 'luck', 'opportunity', 'freedom', 'salvation', you immediately think 'bullshit'? I think that might also be the reason why I don't trust doctors.

It's also the reason why the minute you say that you're being honest they'd immediately presume that you're a lying scumbag.

It might also be the reason why most people don't believe in God anymore.

We're too cool and too smart to follow the things that our ancestors believed in. We've sold out what was once the reason to be.

We're masters of our own destiny. We're our doctors, priests, teachers, and gods. We know what's best for us and it's all uphill from there.

Am I babbling?

I'm just blogging here so don't judge me. The truth is the more you blog about being this and that, people would eventually believe you, even if all those posts were actually copied off someone else's blog, an Eskimo's blog titled '100 things you wouldn't care to know about me'. I've said that I'd stop blogging like a thousand times and I think the end is near. One or two more posts and I'm done.

What is the fucking point if you don't find justice in your entries anymore?

I'll say fuck it! I don't need any of this. I was doing great before any of this. I don't need you to tell me how good or bad I am. I already know the truth.

Would this even count as blogging? It's one big ass BLAH, that's what it is.

I've been infatuated by so many things, most of which have been described as a waste of time in many people's dictionaries. This usually happens when everything that you ever loved and cared for end up throwing sticks and stones at you. It happens when they eject you, like a 50s Jazz cassette tape that won't play on a convertible 4000Watt CD/DVD/FUCK player. You should have known that I play different kind of tunes.

We keep thinking that we're strong enough to do this and that, but what about the don'ts?

Freedom is not the 'I will' illusion. It's the 'I won't' that sets us free.

I won't take this anymore. I refuse to chase a dream.

O I've been wrong about many things...

I should have learned from the first hit, but I guess it takes more than just one strike to straighten up my thinking.

I have fooled myself, haven't I?

I'm off to chase a fresh start. I so fucking deserve one. I also deserve better.

I reckon mistakes are all part of can put everything down to experience and experience is a good thing, right?
You live, you learn, you die. Well at least that's what it all amounts to in a non-religious mind-frame, but surely an intense experience means you're living more intensely?
As to doctors...well I've got to agree with you there- all money grubbing bastards.

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