Weapon of words

Does anybody actually read this?

If no one does, then what is the significance of this very sentence? Nobody has the answer for they are always too busy with themselves. I don’t mind much though, for I am always too busy with myself too. This writing is proof, as I do not read any others’ writings before crafting this silent protest.

And so I am baffled by words. It is a weapon if used correctly, but means almost nothing without proper attention. Whether my words deserve any attention or not, only the mass able to judge such.

“But the modern society is dominated by unthinking majority, am I wrong?”

Who is that? I wonder. Who pointed out contradiction in my mind?

“Come on, you’re too old to deny me now. It’s just how every mind operate. It counters every opinion, argue every facts, so that you won’t settle in banality”

I see, I don’t think I need to fight you much anymore. I just have to embrace that you exist, and you are the source of any doubt.

“I like that; ‘The source of doubt’, but I guess I do more than that, I am the reason why you keep writing despite you know these words mean nothing”

Now you’re being childish, this whole world never gave substantial meaning in the first place.

“Now you’re the source of my doubt”

God damn! You’re right! What are we then?

“We are the weapon, one that is waiting for its chance”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA… Now you’re making sense. We are still a slave to character, right? The degree of rights in each wrongs, Vice versa, only determined by the way I think. And I am that positive fool.

“It’s better like that. At least we can end this nonsense with a bang”

And a little smirk at the end of it.




I sometimes wonder, why do we need the others? Transactional relationships are more settling than unprecedented courtesy.  It makes conversations uneasy and reasons shady. I wouldn’t come to their  place, support their  cause, or promote their brand. I will do it if I am charmed by it, If I feel the thrill or infatuated by their works.

Yet as I grew, I understand I cannot be that apathetic. My father showed me through his life; I need to put myself out there, reach out others so they will vouch for me in the time of needs. That’s why I was there when they need me, I share and shout as a support, I give my best to their cause. It’s a transactional courtesy. 

Until the time comes, when I finally need them. My cause, my work, a day when I need them. And I see very few of them. Those whom I invested time and power in, people whom I gave some care, others whom I supported. I learned that courtesy are dying now. My father lived in a different time than mine. People don’t care. Even if you do. It’s the age of apathy, where everybody lives in fantasy. I have to be someone in order to reach anyone. And I am no one. Just a guy who tried to care. And decided to stop doing so now.

A cover Hedonist


As quoted from the secret life of Walter Mitty (2013)

And then she pointed out, “if your purpose in life is to seek happiness, won’t that makes you…” “HA!”

He then interrupted her sentence by dull laughter. A covert hedonist, that’s what he is. She couldn’t completely disagree that at some degree, hedonism might be a way to actually wade across the life smoothly. Sure, if pleasure and indulgent become his sole purpose of life, she would think of him as a shallow maniac, but he bears the pain as well as the pleasure, he left his comfort every now and then, and never once he neglect his life chores ad duties.

Through him, she understand. There is no life without pain, because the world itself is a deadly contraption made to capture and maim its denizen. Pleasure is temporary, hence continuous pursuit of such will only take you farther from any meaning. But through pain, one can understand happiness. Through limit, one can feel the joy of achievement. Only through tragedy, blessings can taste as sweet. Maybe he is a half Taoist, as much as he’s a hedonist. He live his days mostly in white, not because he never fell to the dark, but because he embraces the black in each light.

And so, though still uncertain, he kept his trail to find purpose. His true goal is not pleasure, but happiness as a whole. In every turn, every struck of bad luck, he put himself as a conscious suitor of life. He got mad when he needs to, he laugh as hard when the world makes so, he embrace who he is without hesitation. And for the misery he must bear, he simply finds someone to share it. Not the burden, but the story. Because at the end of the day. Happiness is about finding the right place, the right person, the right thing to do; all the things that still brings you pain, but the kind that you can actually enjoy.