in my wildest dreams

 . . . i've taken a lot of time to think just how devious the world we live is. It is in this sense I find my place of wisdom resides within me.

Earlier in the week i stumbled upon old yearbooks that were stored away for my recycling box. As I flip through those pages today - so much reminds me of an era I sometimes forget I make a part of. It's funny to see how resilient a person I've become, or more so specifically to the same individuals that grace the pages past.

Funnier still as it may seem to me after all those early days, were spent in school hallways, deliver almost nothing to bare. It serves a purpose of denial. So much so - that when encountering 'old' friends per se, so many of those, are merely figments a radical transformation. Some are so pretentious as they were then, are more so ignorant now.

Nothing - seems real.

In fact: even the teachers themselves appear to be static to how little influence they truly had, yet so bizarre those days were that the truth would be too much for us to accept.

What I remember about myself, is a person that learned to read about time.

That was a time my self-awareness was probably meant to exclude how fragile my sense of belonging really was. Yet, again. . . today I see a boy being lied to. Then again, today - I see a man looking through that time as if a mirror were being held up saying, "It's not really happening."

The prime minister of Canada was Jean Chretien, with US president Bill Clinton.

So much of this I see today, is a reflection of the materialist notion that friends long ago were bound to. When I see people that truly have no inner-life but due to their own false conceptions of reality, it is my perception, that I express not one of these people ever really knew who I was. They are as if ghosts, trying to make-believe they remember a person from such a time in my life.

When I see such creeps I look away and I refer to them as monsters of the abyss. My memory will not serve such creatures well.

When I remind myself of the place we live in - that I choose to be a part of - I see myself in a curious circle of hypocrites that blame other people. . . "You are part of the rat race. . . must destroy."

It is a world of desensitized robots.

Perhaps, getting married while taking an imaginary air balloon ride does suffice to some addicts out there. The ones that compare themselves to such high esteem, they wanted to become doctors - but instead became nothing but nurses or teachers of the same brick-institution they came out of. Some became tradesmiths or professional-extortionists, others are now drug dealers that cop out on every given opportunity for the sake they can hold down a meaningless occupation.

Needless to say I've witnessed all of these things, and as result, I've deprived myself to some form of distinction on a lower level of intelligencia. However, my faith better survives the aftermath of rational conclusions.

It all comes to me on a day like today - where my intuition if it serves me well - corrects the days that have passed on by without even a glimmer to show for it.

For every passing ingrateful person that provides prejudice - only because I am a cleaner holding a mop.

For every person that passes judgment because I am not a Cnd. but I am proud to be from my rite of birth in Portugal.

To those that get married for the sake of it, only be it due to status though will gain monetary measure achieving absolutely nothing.

This is for you. . .