Life: Whats it all about?
Rose Chalice
Something found in my mail box.....
WHAT'S IT ABOUT?
Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have,
or how many people call you.
Or how accepted or unaccepted you are.
Not about if you have plans this weekend,
or if you're alone.
It isn't about who you're dating,
who you used to date,
how many people you've dated,
or if you haven't been with anyone at all.
It isn't about who you have kissed.
It is not about sex.
It isn't about who your family is,
or how much money they have.
Or what kind of car you drive.
Or where you are sent to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are.
Or what clothes you wear,
what shoes you have on,
or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde,
red,
black,
brown,
or green.
Or if you skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get,
how smart you are,
how smart everybody else thinks you are,
or how smart standardized tests say you are.
Or if this teacher likes you,
or if this guy likes you.
Or what clubs you're in,
or how good you are at "your" sport.
It's not about representing your whole being
on a piece of paper and seeing who will "accept the written you."
LIFE JUST ISN'T.
But life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully.
It's about keeping or betraying trust.
It's about friendship,
used as a sanctity or a weapon.
It's about what you say and mean,
maybe hurtful,
maybe heartening.
About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgments you pass and why.
And who your judgments are spread to.
It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy,
fear,
ignorance,
and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate and love,
letting it grow,
and spreading it.
But most of all, it's about using your life,
to touch or poison other people's hearts
in such a way that could have never occurred alone.
Only you choose the way those hearts are affected.
We are just too powerful in life sometimes.
__-----_. ______
/ \ \ o O O _( )__
/ | | \_---_ o._. _( )_
| | \ | |""""(_ Hmmmmm...... )
| | |@ | | (_ what is life? _)
\___/ ___ / | | (__ _ )
\____(____\___/ | | (________)
|__| | | |
/ \-_ | | |'
/ \_ "__ _ !_!--v---v--"
/ "| |>) |""""""""|
| _| | ._--""|| |
_\_____________|_|_____||________|_
/ \
/_____________________________________\
/ \
/_______________________________________\
/ \
/_________________________________________\
{ }
<_______________________________|
| >
{_______________________________| ________
< } / SNOOPY \
|_______________________________| /__________\
\|/ \\/ \||// |// \|/
>|/
srm = r/c
--
phoenix/wk081 Cognito Eggo Sum - I think; therefore I am a waffle!
"Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature
into his pictures." Henry Ward Beecher
Chris Belway
Incorrect.
C.
"I had far rather walk, as I do, in daily terror of eternity, than feel
that this was a children's game in which all the contestants would get
equally worthless prizes in the end."
-T.S.Eliot
SCK
>
> Something found in my mail box.....
>
> WHAT'S IT ABOUT?
><...>
> {_______________________________| ________
> < } / SNOOPY \
Gotta respect how someone will post a poem ostensibly meaningful to them
and then utterly degrade it by attaching an ascii drawing of Snoopy
asking the same question. Why didn't you just drive a stake right through
the author's own heart instead?