January 29, 2014
How are you? I don’t know why I’m asking this, after all, I’m you— or maybe you’re me?— but I guess maybe it’s because it seems like something you should always start your letters with. Maybe it’s so it makes you seem polite and like you actually care about how the person you’re sending letters to is, even if you don’t.
Anyway, sometime this week, around midnight or something, while I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I realized how confusing and complicated life is.
I thought about how people always say that their lives are horrible. When I hear that, I want to tell them to be thankful for what they have.
And what they don’t.
But I can’t, because I don’t truly know how their life is, so instead, I think about my own. I’d say my life is horrible too, but it isn’t. Because even though my life is far from perfect, I know that somewhere, a person is wishing that they have a life as nice as mine.
And then I feel guilty for hating my life.
Then I got this random thought (because I’m a random person). It was: which is worse, doing the right thing for the wrong reasons or doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? Both ways, you will be doing the “wrong” thing.
Or maybe, both ways you’ll be doing the “right” thing.
Some people— optimists— would say that either way, you’ll be doing a good deed. Others— pessimists— would say that you’ll be doing a bad thing.
I guess it depends on how you look at it.
Talking about doing good deeds and bad, is a good deed still good if done for selfish reasons? Thinking about that, is there a good deed done that is truly selfless?
Doing a good deed will benefit you somehow, whether it be a prize or being loved by another or even a good feeling. And that could make it selfish. Which would make everyone selfish.
Except for maybe a very few people out of the seven billion— and I’m pretty sure I’m not one of them.
But then again, only you would have known that the deed was done for selfish reasons. So to others, it would still be a good deed. But, either way, even if it were selfish, I don’t think it matters.
Because, when a good deed is done, you’re happy and the receiver of the deed is happy. And I think that in the end, if everyone is happy, it doesn’t matter why you did the good deed.
Then I suddenly remembered something someone said to me: War is written by the victors.
After a war, the winners are declared “good guys” and are “heroes” for stopping the “bad guys”.
In school we learn about how the “victors” stopped the “bad guys” and how amazing the “good guys” were and such and such (well not exactly, but you kind of get that sort of vibe— or at least I do).
But I think, in war, there aren’t any good guys or bad guys.
It’s only two groups of people fighting for what they believe in.
Except with a lot of violence. It’s a fight filled with the blood, sweat, pain, and tears. Bombs and guns rain destruction, and cause deaths. War tears apart families. It’s filled with hate, anger, and sadness.
I don’t think there are really any winners in war.
Next random thought: I wondered why we all strived to be perfect.
It’s an impossible goal, I know, yet we all (myself included) try to be it.
Is it because we want people to accept us? To make someone proud? To make others happy? Because I’m pretty sure, no matter what others may claim, we don’t do it for ourselves.
At least I know I don’t.
And yet I still try to be perfect. To be that perfect child, perfect student, perfect friend. Perfect, perfect, perfect.
I don’t want to be perfect.
I just want to be me.
This got me thinking. One thought that stood out was: what is our world made of?
Well, obviously dirt, lava, water, iron, nickel and a bunch of other stuff but I meant the more… poetic stuff (or something like that— I can’t really think of the right word to describe what I’m thinking of).
Well, I know our world is not black and white, a precise line separating the good and evil.
Our world is everything but that.
It's filled with every shade of gray. It's filled with bursts of blues, reds, and greens, splashes of purples, yellows, and oranges, sprinkles of pinks and indigos, and every color in between. It’s filled with love, hate, blood, tears, violence, peace, stress, sweat, fun, work, smiles, frowns, truths, lies, pain, deaths, destruction, pollution, sickness, war, selfishness, selflessness, shootings, learning, innocence, children, teenagers, adults, facts, fictions, cowardice, bravery, loss, hope, nightmares, dreams, anger, sadness, happiness.
Our world is not perfect.
It’s far from it.
But I guess if we all just smile, and keep on moving forward, no matter how awful things get, we might just be okay.
And so, after lying alone in the dark, just thinking, I learned (surprisingly) two things: life is confusing and complicated. And life is a wonderful gift.
Anyway, thanks for reading
(though I guess it’s cause you—or I?— have to),
Thoughts of A Dreamer
P.S. I'm doing great.
Annnddd that's it. It sucks, yes, and there's a bunch of problems with it, but apparently some people (other than me) like it. So enjoy. Thanks for reading it all the way! And feel free to leave a comment (positive reviews, criticism, etc.)!