Wait, what?

I've been wondering to what extent is a limit valid? I mean, I know that sometimes we just can't go anymore, or can't progress anymore, but as far as I've seen, that's all it is. And, I mean, the more you hit that limit, the farther and farther the limit gets. It kind of gets me thinking. How can there be limits if we push them all the time? I've skated to the point where I couldn't walk, I've run to the point where I couldn't stand, I sang until I could no longer speak, I played until my fingers bled, and I've written until I had nothing left to write. But, since I'm pushing the limit, how is it a limit? I thought limits were definite. I view everything as a marker to see how far I can get. It's not a limit, but a way to see how far you've come. 

And, on that thought, why do we feel the need to keep going? What motivates us? Is it the thought that we can get better and better? Is it because we feel obligated to, or are we just searching for answers? I have yet to understand why I don't just stop running in the middle of that hard-ass practice, why I don't stop trying that one trick, why I don't give up on singing, why I don't give up on playing, why I don't give up on writing, or why I don't give up on growing. I seem to be so obsessed with becoming a better person, and one step closer to being a man, and for what? Why do I feel the need to do these things? Why don't I have the audacity to just "hit it and quit it"? Why am I such a sensitive person? Why do people like me exist? Even now, there seems to be no limit to my questions, and I'm just curious about everything. I may not have the answers, but I question the value of some of them. Why do I need answers? I'm not confused, down, or anything bad, for that matter; I'm just curious. 

Limits, motivation, purpose. What does it all mean? Even if we figured out all the answers, we would still be trying to search for something more. It's in our nature, but at that point, what would we do with ourselves? We'd probably hide all the secrets to life and happiness for future generations of mankind to ponder. 

I'm an open book, but I need you guys to help me write my story.

Sometimes.

Sometimes, I miss writing my "sometimes" blogs.

Sometimes, I miss hanging out with everyone, and knowing that we were all at least okay with each other.

Sometimes, things fall apart faster than you can say "I'm sorry", and that's the worst.

Sometimes, apologies mean nothing.

Sometimes, I wonder why everything isn't just "this or that".

Sometimes, I wonder.

Sometimes, I worry.

Sometimes, I cry.

Sometimes, I laugh.

And, sometimes, I feel pain like you couldn't understand because my morals and values get in the way of everyone's lives.

And, sometimes, I really don't know what to do.

But, I always, always, love.

Show me your heart, and I'll give you mine.

How does that work?

It bugs me when I see people who are jerks have stickers and signs that say "Coexist" on them. I'm all for relaxing and accepting everyone, but I find it counter productive when you preach coexistence, but you sit there and put others down or hurt them in some way. I wish movements weren't so trendy. When did euthanization become a fad? Why not wear cotton instead of salads? How can you coexist with others if you're not willing to be nice, or at least cordial? Why is it that we only hear things from extreme feminists, and not those who are moderate? I'm no saint, but I still have my values.

Really, dad?

I need to grow up? Sure, you're older than me, I get that. I'm not as mature or responsible as you are, but I'm just 18. Does the fact that I can go to jail make it so that I should have many more burdens? Just because I don't always clean my room at the first sign of it being messy doesn't mean that I'm irresponsible and immature. It seems that because I don't have a steady flow of money, I'm irresponsible and immature. I hate how you never commend me on being responsible. I could save the world, and I'd still be irresponsible. Just because you go to work instead of school obviously means that I don't know anything and I can't possibly understand how hard it is to survive. What more do you want, mom? It seems that once I turned 18, I don't have the right to be free anymore. Well, you're wrong. I need not clean my room all the time. I do have a grasp of how hard it is to live on your own. I am responsible. And, money doesn't equal power. It holds no weight with me, so take your job and shove it.

Love you, mom.

Love, Omar

I hope you're fucking happy.

Because I know I am.

:] Quickie, eh?