Ever heard of the phrase, life is just a bed of roses?

Well there’s also the phrase, every rose has its thorns.

So put it in a big picture: Life is a bed of roses filled with thorns. I mean, looking at MY point of view, if one falls into a bed of roses, he will get pricked. Most definitely. So by putting the two quotes together, you get the wonder of life.

But still, the big question is what is the meaning of life? A mystery or so it seems to many. I for one hate it. I despise the fact that life is not fair. I despise the fact that life brings forth so much sorrow to my soul. I despise the fact that life has wound its torturous chains of negativity around me.

Introspective or so I may be but I am sick and tired of this happening so often. It bothers the heck outta me because the receiving end gets the sharp end of the sword. In the tale of the merchant of Venice, I quote from shylock;

“If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?”

I cannot seek revenge on life.
It is but a pointless act upon myself.
Cutting my wrists will not do.
My black eyes do not speak the truth.
I for one cannot let my life lie in fate’s hands.
I will break the walls between building atrophy.
And cause all my problems to recede.
It is what I must do.

TTFN