Get a load of this.

A death in the family clears perspective. Remarkably.
Love is bullshit.
Genitalia. Hormones.
All fleeting desires that do nothing more than desecrate the burden of eventuality. The sincere eventuality of being taken care of in your family, growing up within in, and finally, taking care of it like an honest man.
People who cannot understand this burden, are best left out of your life.

The lack of empathy in people amazes one to no end. Even intelligent people can be emotionally retarded. And that is such a thunder killer. Esp. when the knowledge of empathetic lameness suddenly dawns upon you and you retro-think, how you could have missed that thing in a person till now.

I'm in a mood to bitch. And I see nothing around to stop me. So, go get a job. Or a quiet, damp corner to play with yourself.

People are so frustratingly amusing. And well, are amusingly frustrated all the time.
Emotions. Tears. Insecurities. Oooh. Save me a seat for the International Gay porn awards. I'd be much happier attending them than entertaining a barrage of ill-placed self-doubts disguised as woeful cries for comfort.
I find witnessing tears, for somebody who cannot be brought back, infinitely more solemn than a river-shed that is nothing but a festering want for degrading sympathy.

And most people run around counseling the aggrieved. Which is good, but instantly lame if done with a dose of self-righteousness. A moral high ground of "being there" for a person. Pick up a stick. Hit yourself. And if you're still holier-than-thou; rinse, repeat and throw in another torture or two in the exercise.

My point is, Grow up people. Really care when you care. Really listen when you have an ear open. And do what you mean. This is it, you don't get more time to grow up. Sort out your shit. Make space for who is important and throw away the rest.

I'm not a punk messiah for stirring up teenage shit every now and then through these notes. You guessed it, I'm just too full of myself.
But wait, isn't it the perfect job?