It's likely that this might not mean anything. Or this might mean everything. It's the degree of separation of acceptance and agreement. When i first started to write, I didnt know I could. Whether I could form sentences simply. It didnt make sense then to think. Then why now? It's the mere audacity of oneself, not even belief. Just the acceptance that you know it and you can do it. It isn't even difficult to inculcate things you learn, because "you learn whatever you want to do". It's not a compulsion or force. It's like how one sometimes hates gravity? And wishes to give back by learning how to fly a plane or a kite? I cant fly, so I run. I move on, because then it all makes sense. This running is not an act of cowardice or frustration. It's the other act of "running".
Where you know where you're going.
Headed someplace you know you will be resented. It's as simple as that.
There isnt a guide, there isnt a map, there isnt a future. There is just you and reality and illusion. (Richard Bach provides such insight I tell you. It's fortunate.)
Pleasure and pain both recieve each other well. Whether its a game, sex, a conversation, a relationship. We hurt because we apparently love. Pleasure and pain. Why is it so hard to listen to someone who is happy or sad? Mere jealousy? Or plain ignorance?
"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."
This makes absolute sense. It's like the wheel of fortitude suddenly spinning in your direction with gratitude. The fortitude of a person to hold on to both pain and pleasure in thier lives is respectable for the fact of having emotion for the unknown or the very known. It's fundamentally human to depend on some figure for both these emotions. Fear to undergo it, is obvious ignorance of the same.
If you pick up the large black hat and there's no rabbit popping out of it, well, then, I guess you have seen what we explicitly call, reality.