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Life is too short for boring stories

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, horror reports of abuse, misuse, rape, and all other kinds of suffering reach me.

Not every day, but every single minute, it is present because it is happening, now and now and now and now, because it is so encompassing and omnipresent.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, if you still have at least a little sympathy, you want to despair of all the human-made horror that happens everywhere, yes, maybe even next door.

Not every day, but in every single minute of the day, one stands uncomprehending in front of the incomprehensible stupidity that floats of species-appropriate and pain-free, meaning a little less suffering or a quick death.

Not every day, but in every single minute of the day you want to scream, for all those whose screams no one hears, because they are well hidden, in dark, crammed, closed, and who wants to look it gets to do with the legislature, the property more important than ending the suffering.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day you want to cry, a tear for each creature, whose torments you and you and you, and probably also I blame, because I have to let it, because I cannot help it.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, one wants to be there, a living admonition to let life live, in freedom, in happiness, in lightheartedness, to leave it untouched, because no one can own life except that, it belongs.

Not every day, but every single minute, it is present, also right next to me, on your plate, and you whisper to me 100,000 times something of tradition or that you cannot do otherwise or some shit that I do not want to hear anymore, cannot hear anymore.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, I see that there are people around me who also feel, think, see, despair, cry, scream and fight, who help each other out when they think they cannot go any further because the sorrow depresses one.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, I see the commitment and willingness to intervene for the abused, abused, raped, and ill-informed of this world, regardless of their own lives or their own reputation, for those who commit their lives will be repressed showered.

Not every day, but in every single minute of the day, I live life with all devotion, in all passion, live the love, colorful and intense as life itself, lose myself, surrender, be lost and let surrender, for that very reason and despite everything hostile to life.

Not every day, but in every single minute of the day, I want to celebrate the little moments of happiness that I get, in exuberance and pure disrespect for the correctness and decency.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, I want to be the freedom that I wish for all others, the freedom to shape your life in such a way that it is yours, that it is full of possibilities and privileges.

Not every day, but every single minute of the day, life should be just life. And it needs no further justification.

Similar posts:

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Until the last breath

On the day, I saw the suffering

 

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