No (more) rest

Always something

Something to do

Lives full of endless tasks

The world made possible by human work.

Work with connection is a must

Always online

Always in touch

Always connected

Spy on you they just…

                *

But without work

Life’s not a gentle breeze.

Storms of self doubt

Futures looming

Beyond the horizon of right now

Thoughts of will bees

Will be bosses

Will be partners

Will be hardships and will be troubles

Would they care

                For what I do

                And what I strive for

Sometimes there’s no rest

Even when

Nothing is to be done


If you liked this poem, you can do me a favour by checking out these charity funds.

About Corbyn, Sanders and Hillary

I usually try to avoid writing these kinds of posts, overly emotional ones about politics, but my current emotional state really created the desire to write this -and some of the stuff I wrote elsewhere, about the subject of politics- in me. I think this kind of emotional reasoning most of the time leads to the wrong conclusion. But here it goes:

I’m not that sure I really am a @SenSanders supporter anymore. Over the past weeks I’ve seen he’s wrong on too many issues. @HillaryClinton seems wrong on a lot of issues too, but I never suspected her to be right on that many things. I did from Bernie. At least my seaside neighbour has @jeremycorbyn. He seems to be the real deal… Hope I don’t find out similar stuff about him, and that the stuff I already found out isn’t going to have a harsher impact on me later. Rationally I understand I can’t really expect a candidate to be perfect, there’s too many compromises that are required to be an effective politician and people disagree without that too. But I really want one of them to be perfect right now. So we can have a shining beacon of hope to guard away the darkness of corruption and the stench of reality itself. My own state of mind is probably playing a large role in this as well. Seeing death so close by really opened me up to the suffering of others. And it made me very emotional about it as well.

Sorry that I don’t fill in the details of why I feel this way, but this way the emotional message seems clearer to me. Maybe the details will spill out in a future chapter or a second draft.

Should I really be turning tragedies into something “good?”

I feel kind of guilty again. This feeling feels very much the same as the last post I did about it. However, it’s slightly different this time. I kind of feel that I shouldn’t take anything good away from Daphne’s death. That it should just be a terrible tragedy instead of also something “good.”  But I am taking something good away from her death. The sadness I feel fills me with motivation to write things down. Now I’m even writing a very weird kind of book, because of it and in part about it. It might not be a book, it might become a game or visual novel or walking simulator. (This probably also means the post I promised will be the end of that novel or game. So you’ll have to wait for that one for quiet some time.) At least it’s going to be something,  instead of the sadness and tragedy I almost feel that this should be. I’m wrong about that of course. Sure death is sad, but we are always allowed to make something good out of it. I’m not sure if Daphne would have wanted this to happen, and I think I want to talk to her parents about this and some other things, but it is happening. It’s the way I’m going to deal with this sadness.

I also kind of feel like I don’t deserve to be sad. That because I haven’t seen her in 12, 13 or maybe even 14 years. I don’t deserve to be sad about her passing. That I can’t honour her memory because I didn’t really know her anymore. This is wrong too of course. Lots of people, which I actually know in real life, I know to the same degree as I know her. Those people and her I know more as almost an idea of a person than a person in and of themselves. And I bet that many people I know, now know me that way too. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be sad if I die or that I shouldn’t be sad if they die.