Perfection, or not

An idea forms in my mind.

It seems flawless as I think it through, and I can’t believe how I didn’t think of it before. The concept is simple, I only need a few minutes to prepare everything I need.

I start to get everything together, to create what is in my mind.

But this isn’t how I thought it would be. My idea is full of faults, its imperfections show up one by one. I try to fix it. It can’t be fixed.

Frustration overcomes me, I want to stop, want to quit. I shouldn’t have started it in the first place. What a waste of time.

But I can’t give up. Maybe it’s not what I wanted it to be, but I can make it something else. Something original, something that will make people wonder.

The end result might not be perfect, but the process of creation and enjoying the moment, that is all that matters. Or at least I hope so.

This too shall pass

A few months ago, my dad asked me to guess of a phrase that could encourage men in hard times, but also make them humble in fortunate times. I thought for a few minutes, but had no idea how to answer him. I finally gave up, and asked him to tell me what the phrase was. He then told me that he had read in an article about King Solomon asking a group of wise men to give him a ring that would make him happy in sad times, and sad in happy times. The wise men gave him a simple ring with the words “This too shall pass” etched on it.

After hearing this, I was amazed at how true the simple phrase was. No matter how tough times get, they eventually pass. No matter how high up a person is, there will come a time when he falls. There are times when I am sad because of something that happened at school, but as time goes by, it loses importance. When something good happens, I become happy and feel like nothing bad could happen, but it does. That is life, and the pattern will always continue.  

While some of my friends can't wait to get older, I sometimes think about going back to infancy.

Time Only Goes Forward

I wish I could go back,

Back to those careless days.

Back to when I didn’t know about such things

Like betrayal, lies, and deception.

Back to when I didn’t know how painful it could be,

How much hurt I would have to go through.

Back to when I didn’t know about loss or destruction.

Back to when the problem would go away if I ran into my mother’s arms.    

They say ignorance is bliss, and I see how it couldn’t be more true.

Oh, how wonderful it would be

If I could go back,

Back to when I didn’t know.

I wrote this poem while thinking about the times I get frustrated when people act like they know more about me than I do.

A Friend Should Know

You don’t know me.

I’m not who you say I am.

I’m sorry, maybe I should be more clear.

I told you the truth, but you don’t believe me.

You act as if I’m trying to hide something from you.

I don’t know how I could be more frank, since no matter how hard I try to make you understand,

You just don’t get it.

There’s nothing mysterious about it; the facts are all right there.

Don’t waste your time trying to find what doesn’t exist.

You talk to me like you know everything about me.

Stating what seems like facts when it’s nothing more but your opinions or guesses.

I have a voice, and it doesn’t speak through you.

Maybe you should try asking me how I feel, instead of making up my answers for me.

You don’t know me.  

Death

In the last three weeks, I have heard about the death of a friend’s grandma, the passing away of another friend’s grandpa, a boy who committed suicide, and another boy who got killed in a car accident. I hadn’t really thought about death lately, but as I learned about these four people who recently left this world, I started to wonder about what comes after life. 

People spend their whole lives trying to understand and grasp the meaning of life, but no one knows what really comes after life. Many religions exist, each having its own explanation for what happens after death. According to my religion, I will go to either Heaven or Hell, depending on how I act and behave during my lifetime. However, I sometimes wonder if I will be born again in another body, or if I will even be aware of anything after I am dead. Maybe it will be as if I am dreaming, feeling and knowing nothing.

People tell me that death is a part of life, but it seems to me that life is a part of death. We are alive for only a short amount of time, compared to the endless time that we will spend being dead.