“I used to look at it as something overwhelming, something seperate from me that I had to find my way through. Now I see myself as part of it. When you start out on the journey you think it’s all about taking in experiences to fulfill yourself. But it’s not. The greatest experience is changing

silently……I mourn when a mother cries,I bow my head in shame, feeling pityfor those who provoke tears from a mother’s eyes. no feasible excuse can ever be acceptedto justifyor falsely rectify,a mother’s tears. when a mother cries,I am filled with fear,the world silently sheds a tear,when a mother cries. I’m lost and void of explanation,of

bitterness resolved within a realm of obscurity,loneliness confronted,conquered,along the boundary of reality strength interpreted, understood,discovered,amidst adversity.realizedneglected fallaciessurfacing to consciousness,liberated from ignorant captivity tainted trust formulated from remnants of others dishonesty,tortured,perpetually pillaging the shackled mindcondemned in a dungeon of hipocrisy insecurities intensified by a self-absorbed, superficial societyselflessness resurfacing with scarcity,patience cultivated with experience,with spiritual serenity,maturity.

veering towards me with remorseless efficiency,penetrating my interior, concurrently,disassembling my psychology,assasinating my optimistic personality,forcing me into the monotonyof accepting a pessimistic philosophysituational deficiencies. avoiding them only multiplies them in quantity,confronting them renders me in disparity.puncturing my soul, protruding my thoughts,weighind me down while I struggle for clarity,staring me in my eyes, challenging meto be a

thoughts jumbled like a jigsaw,erroneous actions, violations of self-implaced lawswhich govern mekeeping me as far possiblefrom the edge of insanity. problems of the world drag me downwith their overwhelming density,my mind’s losing the capacity,the immediate ability,to deal with difficulties multiplying in quantity. women ain’t shit, my society thinksinnocent people die,because someone had a bit too

European Hangover? That’s exactly what I’m feeling right now as I speak, write, and think. The beauty and history of Europe is exactly that: history. A month spent backpacking through Europe has opened my eyes up to things never seen, places never visited, and people never met. How can I go back to the monotonous