Many people know me but how many people actually know me? Do they know how I think? How my mind bursts in sporadic decisions and I babble these innocent yet seemingly amusing tantrums... the war cry of the happy against the troubled and melancholy. I sometimes sit and wonder, stare into the horizons, the starry universe, the sea or sometimes just at my ceiling and affirm my purpose. I am writing this as a manifesto rather than a journal entry.

From ever since I was young I had a passion to create... even if it was one of my stories. My interest for life keeps expanding and I have grown fond of progression. This world has many obstacles that conflict the natural path of harmonic existence and in turn hinder minds from creating or expanding. Artists, Designers and many others have tried to inspire in all forms and fashion, sending clues to bring us closer to reality and like them, I will try to do the same. I work hard for a purpose. I am not perfect... and I dont intend to be... I intend to keep learning and progressing as time progresses, is there anything higher that "perfect perfection"? What is perfect? Who says what is and what is not? imperfections celebrate reality.



Can one answer the question of love and affection against lust and infatuation? Can anyone tell you what its like when you die? What do you see? Why does music stimulate you so intensely? Lets stop put our headphones and embrace the vibes. Life shouldbe seen as a song that we play, we control the notes and the eventual harmonic symphony.

For the first time in 4 years I felt butterflies. and my body felt numb and I was cold but not the chilly feeling you get on a winter night coming home from class.