So much water, we’re all part of this wave.

So what do I want? A woman, a lover? A breast to hold, a mouth to connect with? Here I am, with man boobs, with chubbiness, with God. I’m confused, Oh lord.

Yes, I feel like a plant in a desert. Sir I am afraid to fit in, I am afraid to not do much, I would like to be one of your beautiful flowers, I just want you to let me grow a little higher than rest – selfish? You joke.

I don’t understand what this is all about. I don’t wanna serve two masters, not my style. But this world is run by that master, well, you know, “run”. I want to excel. I want to plant, and in that I know, maybe?, is that wrong? Because it’s you who plants, and I who…if I ever do, am like the bottle you carry seeds in. You’ve told me what’s right and wrong, I believe you, how is it my right, my duty to tell someone else, disregarding “planting”? The keyword is tell, not discuss.

I’m not thankful for what I have. This isn’t good enough? This computer in front of me, this music I listen to, these friends who, disregarding You being a sore subject, are here. My mom, step-dad, dad, grandma, my lineage, my life.

Existence itself not good enough, disappointing? Dreams, the future. NOW. What if now is sad, disappointing? You should enjoy it, but things happen. Not perfect.

Point of this life. Experience? Some books I read say it’s all about spreading You, I feel I read it wrong. I would love to be an explosion in an ocean, one rain drop hitting millions of miles of water, SPLASH, spreading outward, rippling. At the moment I feel like a dart being aimed for a bulls eye.

Please help me keep that image. Love You, which I always think, I You You. Or You Love.

Hmm.