I run as fast as I can. I run until I break down; until the silence splits me open. I hold my head in my hands and sit for five minutes, an hour, two hours. I honestly don’t know anymore. When I look behind me, I see the world I run from. The world full of betrayal, slaughter, fear, conformity.
It is but a painful reminder of my fears and flaws. I created that world, and it is taking its toll on me. Consuming me, it made me lose my purpose. It disguised my pain as my pride, making me think I deserved this. It masks itself as a goal gone wrong in my endless quest for perfection.
I look ahead at the paths in front of me. Dusty, firm, wavy paths leading toward the horizon. Representations of the choices we make and their unknown consequences. I think of all of my choices, and look at the paths again. Now, I look ahead and I see no roads left but one.
Credit: Suvidhi B. (Me)
The way we think about charity is dead wrong. (Video).
Just saw this on mikeshinoda.com. Makes my parent’s generation rethink everything about where their money goes when they give money to charities.
There are many different elements to this photograph. For example, the wood of the guitar reflects the stripped and broken E string. The contrast makes it bold, and the grayscale effect turns the mood of the picture sour. It makes you feel sad inside. If it had not been in black and white, perhaps it would have been a lot happier, and, “peppier”. The bright orange would make the picture warmer, and would have given the picture life.
Photo Credit: Suvidhi B. (Me)