Why is it that when i try to tell somebody something the words just don't seem to flow out as they should. will i be happy with the person i am or with the person i want to be? i think death is our reward. When we die we go straight to heaven and that’s that.

This world is a movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout...belonging to nobody, which is what everything is!

What does it matter? Like the ants that have nothing to do but dig all day, I have nothing to do but do what I want and be kind and remain nevertheless uninfluenced by imaginary judgments and pray for the light