About age

I like playing young and stupid. Naive, as someone just called me. I like to play the innocent that takes life like a joke (not that life does not deserve that, but I know that us, mature people, are not supposed to think of it as a joke). Why should life be good and fun? No, life is not a joke - thus it cannot be laughed at. Life is not a game, so it cannot be played with. Life is not an icecream, thus it cannot be enjoyed. Life is just something we have to endure. And still, they blame me 'cause I like to play, to laugh, to eat icecream. They blame me for being twisted and wanting to enjoy my life. They keep telling me that't not possible -- that's childish and naive and ... plain impossible. And yet, I can. And we'd all be much better without them.

Don't you hate those people that tell you that you don't understand what responsabilties are? I hate them. They just want to make you think you're crazy or mad or retarded. That you don't see life as it is ... that you have a "distorted" version of reality. Isn't schizofrenia all about that, too ? But we all pity the poor sick people. What if they are happy?

Anyway ... I guess it's my fault - I just pretend too well to be 16 and believing in being young and happy. It's my fault that people look at me in discontempt, telling me I am just naive and I will get in trouble with that, one day. Is that only envy? Maybe. But it still hurts. And that is the only problem when you're 16 ... everything hurts, because everything is close to your heart, everything is about emotions. We get old ... and we get thicker ... skin, waist, feelings... maybe not the hair. We stop being young and we start being fully responsible. Then, life passes by - no laughter, no feelings, no pain. And then, one day, we die. That's if we're lucky. Others die in long, painful weeks, and months ...
I hate those people that keep telling me I'm old. I'm more alive, than old, and that's what matters. Or not?

I wish I would know how to start a blog. Should I say "welcome all to my blog?" That would make you, implicitly, the spectators of my writings, thus somewhat passive viewers of my existance. That is mainly because I'd like to write down things that happen to me. Not because they are spectacular, but because they look spectacular. Maybe not to you, the readers or viewers, but to me. As I put them on "paper" {?! - maybe some of you would event print them], they look more special than they really are. So I am just yet another selfish person that wants to look at herself (yes, the name is Dorothy) and see more than she really is. And mirrors do not help. Maybe a blog would.
But enough complaining. It's all about "be welcome and enjoy". Maybe it's gonna be funny, though I'd rather think it's gonna be sad and too self-oriented. Thus boring. But nevertheless, somewhat public. By the way, I used to hate blogs. I also used to hate carrots. But things change, so let's give it a try. Now I'll go to buy some carrots before the next post. In the meantime, maybe I should advise you to find something better to do than wait for my writing.
Cheers!