Simplicity

Kha (Kevin). 20 // Honest Wanderer. Down-to-Earth Realist. Semi-awkward Communicator. Melancholy Existentialist. Philosophical Naturalist. Pensive Romanticist. Soft Romantic. Aspiring Transcendentalist. Wistful Writer // Commemorating the breadth of modern nature.

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The Black Market, Rise Against (via booklover23-stuff)

I’m falling on my knees right now
I’m covered in the mess I made
These colors used to wash right out
But now they are a part of me

Icarus

Darkness is the eternal frontier. The abyss where cartographers find mountains of treasures only to be lost by their own maps.

(via thexpotent)

(Source: loveandtomfoolery, via burning-soul)

You realize you are not alone, right? No one in their twenties has life figured out. It’s okay to be a mess. You’re living.

9-25-14

I woke up that morning. Opened the blinds to let the morning white light in. As I lay on my bed with closed eyes, there was a gentle hand white as a feather caressing my warm cheek. A hand so real that it was undeniable. The pure existence of it was so palpable that if I opened my eyes there would be no more hand. Nonetheless, the hand became the breeze from my window.

I began to think about how I would be able to feel this again. It is sad, really. I immediately thought about getting money because without it there would be no owning an abode to be alone, no way of traveling, no way of supporting oneself, no way of taking care of another, and no way of sustaining life here. This is age-old thinking. This is complaining by a 100 year old man that lived through the Great Depression.

It is sad to me that every time I think about love the next thought is money. It saddens me greatly. I am tore from limb from limb by this ugly thought. Is it not depressing to be in the brilliance of a white airy room and think nothing more than just a paycheck? I cannot block it from my mind, and I can only think about the Hebrides Islands and wonder about how maybe I can find love there. A love of something else without an attachment; a love without a catch.

What I ask for is the impossible. The code which Sir Gawain seeks. I seek the purest, untainted, unbridled, truest of it. There is no human being capable of this because I know I am not capable of it. But whenever someone tells you something is impossible you look for the tiny sliver of hope in between—that maybe there is a human capable which means I am capable.

Love no matter what. I laugh at that sentiment, but at the same time I feel capable of it despite how ridiculous it sounds.

Talking about Sir Gawain, he was a Christian knight that sought to uphold five impossible virtues: chivalry, friendliness, chastity, generosity, and piety. All of the virtues can never be fulfilled at one given time. Asking for the purest love is impossible in the same sense, but it does help me see why Christians have the inability to relinquish the existence of God because it is God’s eternal love that gives them hope—it is God’s unbridled expectation for love that drives Christians to excel. This impossible, pure love with this omnipotent being is the ultimate love that one can obtain (or seem to). I believe that is why many Christians say that others do not understand the relationship between them and God. Because of the indescribable feeling of love that is impossible to gain in mortal life. No matter how many hardships, mistakes, people that left, and tragedies occur there will always be that impossible, pure love from God.

But I am not Christian. I am me. I know the Hebrides Islands can love no matter what, but I have to wonder, as impossible as it is.

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