Letting go, Human
It was a Saturday when this shit was typed

There have been many iterations of a personal blog. I haven't understood why I needed to express myself until now. The reason for iterations was not a perfection of blogging but rather the annoying feeling of expressing myself. It annoyed me. It made me feel akward. I know the reason and as usual it all goes back to my mother. That woman became smarter as my days of learning about myself pass by.

Anyway, so, blogging. It turns out that yeah I need to get my thoughts out. I learned that I needed because I barely share them with people for social conventions. I don't want to aleinate myself which it's weird since I don't have many friends and I bare socialize.

In fact, I analized my years on this planet and I noticed I've been getting pissed of by my species more and more to the point that my relations with to other human beings has been getting smaller and smaller. What did I feel? Relieve. I am fine in being like this. I dunno if that made me a monster but I reckon that in that way I don't interfere. I have never voted in my life. I used to a sort of activist for freedom of thoughts and veganism. Now, I don't go to that area. I let people go on on whatever they like or think. I see feminism and i don't interfere. Someone told me that I was being sexist. I was either against or in pro of machism, it's not a spectrum. I didn't say anything but I thought even if there were an spectrum I don't want to be in it.

I think perhaps I'm part of a misantropy-like behavior. I say like because I don't hate or dislike my human species or human nature anymore. I just let things be. I don't know if I understood correctly the Tao but I think I probably be a taoist. The art of doing without doing.

Lately I've been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and how I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be. And when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: before I die, I want to be somebody's favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe. Andrew Gibson