It's too cold to be nice

It's rainy. And windy. Intensified by the lake. I cannot sit in my hammock. It's a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I heard some days are like this. Even in Australia. 

My Brain thinks about itself far too much. Fun fact, your brain named itself.

There have been heart transplant patients that have turned around instantly remembering the person of the given hearts love. Sometimes even falling in love with them. There is no scientific proof that our brains hold memory. We scientifically understand that it controls our nervous system and things in our bodies when the brain is affected. But no proof it actually contains memories.

I find this intrinsically beautiful. Our hearts are where keep our memories. That's why we feel so much when we remember things. The wonders of the human body.

People can actually die from heartbreak.  I think that's glorious.

Although I feel like in life, I am already heartbroken for our society. Why is it so hard to be kind?

To be real?

My son is obnoxiously known for saying "Life's not fair" to which I have the same response everytime....

Life is not fair, I'm not setting you up for unrealistic expectations.  If life were fair there wouldn't be people driving Lamborghinis while there are children starving in the world?

And why is that statement too true. But wealth is awarded to the ruthless. Nobody deserves millions of dollars while there is no clean water in parts of the world for children to drink. How is that a right? How do we press on everyday and feel like it's just another factor of things we can't change? Like the government?

Maybe one person is too small but the masses coming together? We could take on the world? Why do we let these people live on high hills and think of them as idols?

Isn't the least of these who we should admire? The ones that make against all odds? The ones that go without and survive? Why arnt we taking notes on how to have not? Those are the life lessons I want to learn. Meakness.

I'm angry at the world today. Maybe it's because of my circumstances, maybe it's the weather, maybe even the fact that my life, or the people I should say have been a part of my story so far (most no fault of my own) have failed at being human.

Evil exists between our own two ears. It's our brain thinking of desires, lusting for greed. Needing or wanting more. Afraid to give up what we have. Cherishing the small moments where we pretend to be good people. Living as if it's not every atom for itself.

Because our cells crave love at the same time our primal instinct is to survive. So people lie. They are guarded. They pretend a fake personification of themselves. Still always worried about stuff.

I'd like to learn the memories of the children in Africa. Or old Indians that have seen their land stolen. I'd like the truth to be the memories in my heart.

Everything else is delusional.