dear diary it been a while since i write to you things.... well, have been different for me like really really different I slowly recognize who i really am looking back at my older diary and see how much I have grow from back then it kind of pleases me but it also kills me a little I roll up and down all night going back to the same thought Why do we do anything we do, even if it is unpleasantly deadly my answer to this was that to a certain extent, maybe despite being mostly unpleasant, there is an element of reward inside it and that very element of reward drives us to repeat the same thing but.... doesn't that means the halt of growing? I mean... of course you can choose to stop growing Growing up is painful, and if you can't handle that pain then why not just live miserably and blindly if it is happy why break the bubble.. but that not how reality work doesn't it? ironic, reality should be where all the real tough bullshit happens but examining closely you realize that reality actually is based off a series of coincidence and once again it goes back to the same question why do we do anything we do or think I guess it for each one of us to ask ourselves and each one of us to find it ourselves -- CCCCC H H EEEEE NN N DDDDD AAA OOOO C H H E N N N D D A A O O C HHHHH EEEEE N N N D D AAAAA O O C H H E N NN D D A A O O CCCCC H H EEEEE N N DDDDD A A OOOO --

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