shinbum

I abhor two-faced people. It grinds my gears when someone is one person to me and a different person to some other. But I can’t escape the guilt of being a two-faced person myself. Most of the days, I can be an all-accepting, unconditionally receptive, student psychotherapist. I’m all ears for you. Come weekends, you’ll never meet anyone as skeptical, cynical, and sick realist like me. Your hope is negligible. The type of person I hate the most is within me. I’m sorry one day, not a bit sorry the next. I love two-faced people, what can I say?

It occurred to me that life is often ruined, dreams are shattered, and disappointments ensue due to desires in the form of expectations or anticipations. Imagine a life without desires or expectations. No more clash between my wanting and reality. No more cups to fill; there is no concept of empty space. It sounds dreamy, until we realize that pain and hurts are what make us human.

I have observed that art is yet to be born out of a joyous soul.

This mental agony just might end with my last breath. To live without pondering about anything is no different from being dead, but the headache caused by the interminable worry and contemplation feels like a process of slowly dying, too; there is no difference. I try to see the third side of the coin, but that turns my attention away from reality. So I try to pay attention to reality, but that feels much naive; I cannot and will not be satisfied in this life. I thought about killing myself--"tomorrow if not today" kind of thinking--but I'm afraid that I won't really die and become a grudge-filled spirit. The end may not be the end, so I can'

고민의 끝은 숨통과 함께 끊길 지도 모르겠다. 생각없이 하루를 산다는 건 죽은 것과 다를 게 없을 터인데 머리가 깨지도록 생각에 잠기는 것 또한 서서히 죽어가는 과정 같아 두렵다. 동전의 세번째 &#

Maybe there is no certainty. Just emotion and passion whispering to us, "This is real. This is the truth."

There is a different air here Though with cashmere the push of the wind is blocked. There is a strange air here, It's softer and tenderer than the New York City air. I can't describe it other than 'home,' A place of refuge, a place I can freely roam. If you won't come with me, I'll go to you My one and only, my home sweet home. I realize that the air is none but you My one and only, my home sweet home. It's been lonesome these last few months Away from home, you the one I saw once With wonder and delight it had to be you. My home, my purpose, my comfort the embrace of you. If you won't come with me, I'll come to you My one and only, my ho

Upon substantial research and experience, I have found what it is that people truly truly need. It isn't money. It isn't bread. It isn't even love. I have found that it is somebody who believes in them that people need. Somebody who will pat on their back and say you can do it. Somebody who will say, I believe in you. I believe you. I believe. You.

Maybe I’m asking for too much, this whole deep interpersonal connection thing. Maybe I’m not supposed to miss people this much. Maybe I’m supposed to simply walk by everyone and quietly accept my grave as an insignificant nobody. Maybe I’m supposed to hide my loneliness and whisper to myself, that’s life, deal with it. Where are my cigarettes?