▲Writing without a Purpose◄

As a matter of fact, everytime I think about it makes less sense. I can barely remember thoughts that I've come up with while driving, that I would like to share, so badly. Through the sadness I can communicate with my inner self better, I can understand things  so much unobstructed. My mind opens as I think of other people's opinions, comments, beliefs.

As I go by people's thoughts, I can only recognize one filter, and that is Common Good. You can believe in whatever you want as long as you do not harm anyone else, physically or spiritually. There's always a way to express your disagreement, with conscience and with respect.

I feel this urge to unpack words, let them out, so I can just rest for a moment and realize the prospect of tomorrow still remains hidden in the same place where it has always been, the same place we've been ignoring, (again, all this time) our humanity.

Talk about an old lost ghost:  The human spirit.