Wearing Disguises

A white quilt covering all the rotten lives with peace and pure beauty is what my tired eyes, tired of witnessing how dependent people are on disguises, see through my window. Speaking of disguises, I must admit that I truly and utterly do have hard times to comprehend why people need disguises so badly to live, continue, sustain, uphold, etc. (you name it) their lives. I’ve reflected on this issue for years, intensely last 2 years, yet never even come close to a conclusion. These eyes have not seen any bright light at the end of this endless dark tunnel. That’s why I feel ill.I’m sorry for those whose lives are fiercely depending on how much disguises they wear  and how effectively they’re using them. Such people are lack of the very essential thing that makes us human. Which is honesty! Honesty is being replaced by disguise. It probably didn’t start recently. But its overwhelming impacts are now dreadfully being experienced by those who do not wear disguises as well as those who hate those who have sadly given up themselves to this repulsive new addiction that most societies, even those who claim that they’re living a life beyond most societies, accepted as the fundamental element that everyone needs to have in order to have a chance to live in this wicked world.

Needless to say, I do have more respect for those tribes in Africa, who live in houses made of bamboos but still do know the true values and qualities that matter and mean most,  than those who would undoubtedly want to have, no matter whatever it takes, “disguises” in their survival kits when they find themselves in an island where there is no life whatsoever. Well, I wish them good luck in advance. Because unless they put aside their disguises, understand their titles do not make them who they are, and become aware of that they’re not only the contents of their wallets, a deserted island is where they’ll wind up sooner or later.



Posted in Writing

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