Empathy reveals reality

i can explain,
but no matter what,
you’ll never
completely
understand.
empathy helps
recognize the reality
of an other.

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Receipt disappointment

just throw it away
and don’t think
about it.
out of sight
out of mind,
but the mind
still sees.
could-have-been
phantoms live
in possibility.
reality discredits
an imagination
disillusioned of
what could’ve be.
churning chance
in a vat of hopefulness,
likeliness speaks nil,
cooking a disingenuous delirium.

Looking around at looking around

i don’t often look around,
but when i do,
i notice others looking around.
why do i look around?
why do they look around?
there are no predators near,
at least i hope not.
so why the eyes?
i’ve been grazing the same field,
yet, how things change when looking up.
the ground remains,
the sky is constant,
but this middle view,
how it changes.
it’s hard to eat from the ground
and keep one’s eyes level.
how can one admire the stars
while keeping track of what’s in front?

Playing towards a new game

games are fun.
i like playing them.
i’m not the best,
nor am i good.
maybe i’m the worst,
but i can follow.
the rules are confusing
and always changing.
on top of that,
there are other players.
if understanding the rules
weren’t difficult enough,
now i must understand
these players.
if not at least try to be
conscious
of their playing.
i find it easiest to play alone,
but get confused with more players.
i shouldn’t get so anxious.
as far as i know,
we’re playing the same game.
each with their own
interpretation.
i must adjust my game
to encompass more than
just myself.
shit,
i think
i’ll start a
new game.

Living to make-believe understanding

Since I was 5 years old, I’d always had a compulsion to make, but that doesn’t mean I was destined to become a creative. I just happened to like art-related things. And just because I’ve got a diploma in an art related field, doesn’t mean shit.

Or maybe it means exactly that? No, that can’t be true. Who in the right mind wants to hire someone for their shit? A coprophile? A farmer? Either way, I’m not a big enough shit, nor produce enough to satisfy the needs of supply and demand. I create because it’s fun to imagine. Now I’m feeling pressure that I must create things that hold retail value with no real intrinsic value.

I still live to pretend, maybe imagine the ideal. But I’ve noticed, this can be harmful to one’s own mental health. Living contrary to reality is an open request for hardship, but can also be a source of inspiration. I think the problem is that the environments I’m immersed in do not encourage my creative tendencies. Therefore, I’m left creating halfhearted ideals whose force is expunged but misconception. Or, I just create when I want to create because making things when I feel like it usually turn out better than those that are forced.

It seems that I’ve spent my life creating something do not understand. But according this newly acquired paper, I know something. Then what’s with all this doubt?