Traveling to past lives is like making a hole in the floor and letting the flames of the fire in the apartment below scorch and burn the present.
I don’t give a fuck about who doesn’t like me, who stopped fucking with me, who stopped speaking to me, or any of the petty shit people do towards me because I sleep great every night.
It’s frustrating how life can be a total
bitch. Pain molds a person to someone far more different from what he was before, and it will take time for those pain to drift away. Rejection is a one inevitable part of life. Day by day a friend goes. Day by the day a friend leaves. Someday I know my life will be a story worth reading, a story where a lot of readers will say “I feel what he felt.”.