User:Wuchi Chuchi

= Jupiter Douglas the Incomprehensible =

Scorched parts of memory later on become the most fascinating discoveries one can find
We've all once in our lives questioned the very being of our selves, which should be done as an exercise in the morning. We are told to believe that we must become something great and doing so we'll obtain the meaning of life. It's not that hard to come by 'the meaning of life', in fact you may as well have it now. You can live the journey of life inside your head without worrying about real consequences, but living inside your head on daily basis will rise another idea for you; what I do with my physical part of self truly matters? What matters is having a meaningful and fulfilling life, but if I can fulfill the need for greatness inside my head does it really matter that I do it physically? Ideal setup for a wandering mind is when it has nowhere to go but inside itself. I myself would prefer being left on street with a notepad and a pen, endlessly writing and imagining things that people would say are impossible. Since i have brought up the idea of being on street i'll show you an example.

Everyday life of a professional homeless bum.
I wake once yet again on the street, clueless about the rush of an average noble citizen. I try to find a puddle since it was raining tonight. I am dry cause I slept in the tunnels, police haven't bothered me for months so I am enjoying the freedom as much as I can. As I walk around I conclude that the chance of somebody approaching me is very slim, only a man like myself would ask for something from a bum.

The climate changes frequently and swiftly, therefore most puddles have evaporated since sunrise. In the minutes of clueless wandering I stumble upon one, and the reason I looked for it, is to look at myself, but the lightning isn't right and I can't manage to see my face. I decide to stay near this puddle cause it's in the icy shade of an building.

As I await the sun's ray I take out my noble trusty imagination journal.

Upon opening the journal I am greeted by my own words which I don't remember writing: "'This is a gift, gift of love. Your duty is to love me everyday, write inside of me - and most importantly; never forget me!'"Mostly it's hard to make out what is written previously due to the circumstances it has been in, but worry not cause dwelling on the past isn't as important as creating it. Maybe it's not important at all...

Time to write to kill the time.

I take out my pen which has nearly ran out of it's ink and begin giving out a consumable text of love. ''"Greetings to you, dear reader. I am here to kill your time as in the same time do so for myself. Let me tell you a tale of love which we all have the access to. Most stories begin with an adventurer which you should know is only you yourself." '' "There was an unruly feeling to the boy which had just born. Doctors felt it, the mother, father and any other person that stumbled upon that kids smile. He didn't cry for long upon the birth, more importantly he wondered why he was here, why did he cry while none else did, why was he do different to every other person, why was he so young and little and why did everybody else have hair? Days of birth go by and the stage of growth had arrived. His learning curve was great, but he'd not heed the growth, he'd fantasize as a child, love the toys and so on so fourth. He drove cars and ram them into walls. He used blankets to create his own cities, by throwing it chaotically unto his bed. Grabbing the toys he picked his favorites which were physically most dynamic ones, just like his mind. Having incalculable amounts of fights in his head and physically with the dolls - he couldn't run away from the impossible fight: against time. The boy grew and playing with dolls and cars would seem too dull for his age although he was still 'allowed' to do as he pleased, others were no longer doing it. Everybody was growing up quickly which resulted into leaving the boy lone for good. Anytime his fantasy took in he would hide and allow the magic begin, hoping none would walk in to the room and catch him red handed. His imagined friends would never leave him alone, rather hang out with him and help him smile. Time flies by and parents seize to give any needing attention towards the boy, and whenever he asks for something they try to find a replacement that could take care of him, plus he hasn't got a single clue about the wheels of life. They thought wrong and did something far worse, they brought in into his life something that would fantasize for him. A computer, television, digital bits of information. Now the kid has access to the entire world but he doesn't really care much about it. The games, the violence and disregarding warnings while launching himself into the virtual reality. We lost him for good and practically instantly all his imagined friends were irrelevant. He knew this was wrong but has been consumed by the need of consuming images projected into his iris's. Dreadfully draining it is, being mentally virtually gone. Nothing is real anymore. and again, time is flying way high; while the boy is still in the nest the parents want to make him fly on his own but his incapable of it due to the temporary fixes his been given all his life. The boy is trembling in the shadows of everyone else. Everybody is growing and flying while the boy is stuck in place. People do tell, that the only person you can blame is yourself, which due to peer pressure he accepts as truth and starts beating himself up because of the fact that it is all his fault he can't fly."   Nearly predictably the pen runs out of ink and the last written words are pretty much faded out. Having lost the sense of reality with the short story I had written for myself, I took time to look around myself and realize where have I traveled physically. I look up and see the sun is shining which reminds me of the puddle I've been looking for. Clearly I see my self as i look deeply into it, reminding myself who I am and what should I know. Mirrors are magical, they tell you the very secrets you long to find and sometimes it is possible to go so deep into them you start to feel that your soul is splitting from your body. I have never been able to go all the way cause I am scared of mental damage. I am quite peaceful in every way possible so I don't really want to start a ruckus. Anyway that's why it's important to know yourself and know what you want or need. It helps you smile and keep your life entertaining without anything else that is phony.

Your role while around background characters
Have you ever felt like you're around a bunch of half witted individuals? Oh, yeah... if you're good, you're stuck for sure. I have never been able to escape this feeling that everyone else is daft. I don't like to think other people are lesser than me but I just can't manage and thing that what they do is completely bonkers. I do believe their lives are easier than mine because they don't worry much about the mundane everyday. It worries me if anyone is hurt by my words, it's in my nature but I don't care about their feelings that they feel cause they are just a bunch of creatures trying to express their instincts. If they say anything witty they suck that idea dry for hours, even choke on the bone for a last grin. When your mind is on rocket fuel like i'd like to think mine is, you'll find it that it's not that hard to find a laugh by just saying what ever comes in your mind. Anyway unto the topic. As i explained - they suck us dry, therefore if you can consistently keep feeding the consumers their need for illusions, you can abuse their monkey like impulses and grow large in the community. Anyone famous you have looked up to has done this and all the things you need to change for growth is on your shoulders. Obtain the wisdom of illusion and open your eyes, everyone is looking for entertainment that they can look at with pride. Try to forget that you "have to be like everyone else" and stop consuming, be a creator of worlds.