Sometimes I think my writings have been written just for that one reader, who is me. There have been those times when the words of the people passed and people alive have not been able to comfort me, in such times I have gone back to my creations and they have offered me a warm hug of solace and understanding. Sometimes I think everything that I have written has been for my future self to read and to feel, and to know that there is hope, that there is beauty in life, that all is not lost and that in those alone moments where no one can understand you, you have words from your best love, you have words from yourself.
Thoughts are powerful, they literally shape your life. This is not a new secret. It has been around for ages. Your life is also shaped by where you live and who you surround yourself with. But most importantly your life is shaped by your will to live. Life altering thoughts have to be willed. In order to have that one day which will decide the rest of the course of your limited existence, you have to have the will to kick yourself out of bed and you have to choose, you have to decide. I find this power of choice both liberating and overwhelming. Being aware of the choice does not necessarily guarantee a change, choice followed by action does. Every thought which has not been acted upon is wasted.
This brings me to another aspect which has been haunting my moods in the empty time to myself between the chores of daily life. I realize how different I am from everyone else, and how similar too. But the differences are glaring and the similarities much wanted. No one understands me. No one can. Very few come from the same kind of place and their processing is limited to their experiences. And perhaps I am beginning to think that happiness or that general feel good thing about life is about understanding and being understood.