I’ve begun to write things here that are simply too personal. I wrote I was going to post here today, but I choose against it, because as I mentioned, those objects were too revealing. People I know have the potential to read this, and as so far as for them I wish to remain as I appear.

So I am discontinuing this blog, and moving to my other blog.

I write this because I will no longer write here.

So goodbye. Live the good life. Fight a good fight.

Despite all misgivings I am writing here today.

The piece which you are reading now is a purely tentative one. I am writing freehand, without plan or plot. This may be a tedious piece, it may be a brief one. We shall see.but today I offer no apologies. I have an essay to write in English. Its about heroes. What makes a hero? With opportune timing this theme is oddly relevant in my breathing reality, and so is the fact that I am currently enjoying The Fault in Out Stars.

This is a question that is usually answered with the response that a hero is an altruistic being. But I venture to disagree.

A hero is someone who stands out from society. Some one who notices things around them, not does them. Someone who finds the fault in our stars and ventures on to live with this realization and breathe with this weight. Someone who will give up whatever they have, give up their notice, their lively hood, in order to retain this image of our pure, perfect stars for everyone around. Someone who preserves innocence. Someone who sacrifices themselves for others. Someone who notices whats around them, and instead of seeking to rectify it they seek to embrace it, in such a way that it will never see the fault in our stars. 

So what is the fault of our stars then? The fault of our stars is just how human we all are. Welcome to the human race. So I suppose a hero is someone who sees themselves for who they are, a human being, and will do anything to preserve the innocence of others, to try to show them that we are not human, we are idyllic.

Unfortunately, with this conclusion I end on a solemn note. There is no hero, nor was there ever a hero, nor will there ever be a hero. We all lose our innocence. We are all just as fucked up as everyone else around us.  As soon as we lose our innocence. Someone with cancer is just as fucked up as the kid next door with a diabetic cat. Why? Because we all have lost our humanity, because humanity is idyllic, humanity is innocence. We realize we are human, and with this realization we understand that the only thing separating us from our insanity is our innocence.

There are many of us that try our very best to be heroes. We give everything we have to be a hero. To be a hero to someone is simply attempting to preserve their innocence. But we can never succeed. We can never be a hero, because we are human. Because we will always be human, and its just up to us when to realize it.

So then would you not say a hero is an idyllic being? Whether the classical Zeus or the innocent man, a hero is someone who can preserve innocence, but since we fail to meet this BECAUSE we are human, in order to truly be a hero, one would have to not be human.

So how can I sum this up?

A hero is someone who sees the fault in our stars, and then covers the sky with night to make them pure again.

There is a new Anonymous Operation titled Operation Mayhem. I strongly recommend all who read this participate, and all who read this to re blog and share, or simply share the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAqrTTLKmSQ  -> The Video

You know all of us really are depressed, as teenagers. And you know I think that’s okay. We’re old enough to know the problems around us but too young to really do much about them

I keep on trying to figure out why I stay; why I’m still here. And I’m not sure if I have a reason. I’ve said many things: curiosity, aiding others, lack of will, lack of determination, love- in other words many resolute statements. But I’m not sure if I believe myself for any one of them. So why do I stay? Why am I still here? I suppose I’ll have to answer that another day.

The Catalyst; it is coming, and with it the Uprising.

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When you know you should have said something, or done something but you didn’t find the courage to do it.

I find it horribly ridiculous the traumas and dramas that revolve around us. By use I mean me and my friends. The reason I say this is because such horrible things are happening- and we are but teenagers, and young ones at that.

It feels as if I am part of some satirical joke on humanity.

The common thought is that teens dramatize everything- but no. Things are happening that are undeniably devastating.

One cannot help but to think that if its this bad now- whats the point in staying for the future?

Like so many before me, and countless more to come; I’ve simply given up. Hopelessness entangles me and intensity of emotion cannot be described. There is pointlessness and despair.

I have given up.

I posted earlier that with some feedback I’d post a story about myself, one that I wrote in English. Unfortunately it is not of my perfect murder, because my teacher decided that it was too unsettling. It is rather on the fifth dimension. I will not post the whole thing. Just a part.

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Time is not linear. Rather time operates on a dimensional plane. This is common knowledge; however it is commonly thought that it is the fourth dimension, implying that in includes the three spatial dimensions, and then the fourth, time. Hence moving through space and time is the fourth dimension.  Well I contest to say that time has another dimension. I suppose we can describe the fourth dimension as linear time, and the fifth dimension as possibility time, or simply possibilities. This would fit the standard scientific explanation: time is a linear sequence. However, believing this you would have to believe in faith. For the fifth dimension is probability.
Every action and moment in time is contradicted and accepted by every other potential action and moment. By that I mean that every single possible outcome for a moment, practically infinite, has a place on the spatial dimension of time. We follow a single chain of probabilities in time. The spatial term of the definition does not refer to space in a geometrical aspect, but rather space in the aspect of probabilities.
So the notion of ‘time travel’ can really be separated in to two things; traveling in a linear mode through time, and traveling in a spatial sense through probabilities. So if time is expressed as a horizontal set of strings and probabilities as a vertical grid throughout these horizontal strings of time. You can then move vertically or horizontally. We move constantly through both dimensions, in a linear fashion through both. In order to move vertically we would also need to move horizontally. In order to move horizontally we may have to move vertically.
So then imagine if one can move through this continuum, and you will have a notion of what this story is about.

Careful while reading this, expect long bodies of text and a thoroughly thorough piece. Once again, those short on time or feint of heart, or perhaps content with their day may choose not to read this. But if you are none of those things, or simply adamant about reading this, then go on and enjoy the ride. 

There’s many kinds of disappointment in this world. There is one that we experience most frequently, which is disappointment in the world. Then there is disappointment in others. And perhaps the most poignant, disappointment in ourselves.

I’ll start with the first one. The world we live in is bleak, it is murky, it is repulsive, and it doesn’t appear to be rectifying in any way shape or form. I quote from another tumblr, “When anyone asks me my profession, I always say “I’m a rebel in the near dystopian future.””- Placeboseverywhere.tumblr.com. And for those of you that do not know what dystopia is, it is defined as “a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression, disease, and overcrowding.” - dictionary.reference.com. Well I will go on to contradict that statement by placeboseverywhere, because I find it inaccurate. You are a rebel in the dystopian future. And by that i mean to say that we live in a dystopian society. Depression has never been higher, revolts and unrest are sprouting across the world, we are constantly oppressed, forced to conform to society, whole continents are riddled by disease, and the entire globe is overcrowded. So how can one oppose and say we live in a uptopian world? Our society is so multifunctional that we are already in a wrecked globe, we just have yet to realize it. Anyone can say ‘I am disappointed in the world,’ and perfectly represent the mind frame of countless others. So yes, I would venture to say that when I type: ‘Disappointment’ and link it with the world, readers will agree with me.

The second one is disappointment with others. This I generally completely denounce in the form of personal disappointment in others, but renounce in terms of disappointment with large figures. For example you should never be disappointed in a friend, or family member, not only because it is redundant, but also because it has no basis. Rather then expressing chagrin at others actions, understand why they committed that action, and rectify that causation. However, disappointment in a public figure is completely acceptable, per my judgement. If a political promises to do one thing, when this promise is not fulfilled, it should cause a public outcry, not make us go, ‘oh its always like that.’ I remember the first time I viewed a political campaign. I was seven. When that politician later went in and did the stark opposite of what he promised, I was baffled. I went to my dad and asked: ‘How can he lie like that?’ And he simply responded, ‘oh its always like that.’

Moving on to the third, and as I previously mentioned, perhaps the most poignant of the three disappointments. Disappointment in ourselves. For me this is a frequent expression, and while I have not confirmed with others, I hope you will consent to agree that it is in fact a frequently expressed emotion. We all feel it sometime or later, I think the only two uncontrolled variables are the severity and frequency of the expression. I cannot write about this to a satisfactory degree because the entire purpose of this paragraph is to express the familiarity of the emotion, with you, reader. It is cliche, but you are not alone.

This brings me to my final point in what can only be described as an essay. If you have made it with me this far, I applaud you. I am writing an essay in art, where I have either disagree or agree with a line from a poem, “the function of the artist is to disturb,” Norman Bethune, The Artist. Well I whole wholeheartedly concur. And I suppose all I need to do to explain my reasoning is to show this- writing. Because what have I done now if not disturb? For writing is an art, and by writing this I have disturbed. I may have affirmed or shaken your view on the world, or disappointment. I may have relieved you of your sober uniqueness in my third point. Or I may have simply bored you to death, and you just skipped to the end to see if I have made any sense by this point. Well in principle, I hope you have been sufficiently disturbed during this writing.

Farewell