Kay here's an actual legit blog post that won't suddenly turn into a poem.

The thing is,

I really wonder what would happen if I went into like, a fine arts program.

I'm not talented in art at all, like I can draw things, but it's HARD and painting is fucking difficult as fuck.

But lately my arms have been craving strokes, wide meaningful strokes.

My eyes are craving colour, and my mind is craving detail and freedom.

What would happen if I went to school solely to be creative?

How much would I grow? Like seriously.

I remember looking at my art work from grade 11 to grade 12 and seeming an immensely huge improvement.

Even my writing skills. I'll compare a poem I thought was good from last month, and one I felt was just as good from this month and think, "FUCK, this one is crap! But this one is AMAZINGGGG! I'm so AWESOMEEEEEEE"

Freedom.

What would happen?

I feel a talk with my mom popping up again...

Oh and my psychology courses from this semester? I've seriously dug my heels so hard into the ground on those ones. I physically can NOT continue.

My mind is a magician and I live in the clouds, and no one gets itttttttttttttttt.

- Mint.

This was supposed to be a blog post but apparently I wrote a poem.

I feel so small.

Like, the weight, of everything is crushing me back into the earth from which I have sprouted.

I stand up, and immediately want to sink into the floor; curl into a ball.

I'm trapped.

Yet through my cell's bars I can see the light, I really can.

But I've grown up in these walls. I've built these walls, with help, of course.

I've heard rumours upon rumours about the light. How dangerous it is, how it doesn't even exist.

It's something that we've created in our own minds and that's the only place where it exists.

But I can see,

Look, just there,

I can see people, in the light.

They're there, I see them, I really do.

How did they get there?

Did they start with their left foot, or right? Or maybe they started with a hop, or began, and then waited precisely for six minutes before actually going...?

...Six and a half?

If I stay here I'm safe, except for the crumbling ceiling...
Entirely my fault, of course.

But if I leave...

What will happen?
Where will I go?
What will I do?

How much will I fall...

How quickly will I fail?

I need the ocean.
She calls to me each night; the moon sending me her love.

I need the trees, and the sun that filters through them.
I need it.

But if I get out;
If I go to the edge of the world, I think I would run.

I'd run
and run
and run
and run.

I'd run until I became the wind.

And I'd soar so high,
With the birds.
Dancing among the clouds in the day,
Sleeping in blankets of stardust at night.

People from below would call up from the cages that they've built,
A voice cracked with curiosity,
"How did you get there? Tell me, left or right?"

But my soul would be too gilded with the sun's gracious gold,
To hear the cries from below.

My mind,
too far gone to be brought back down to earth.

I would be living in the light.
How do I get there?

Left,
then maybe...

A right?

- Mint.

You Fast

"Is avoidance,

really control?"

- Mint.

Happi~Happi~Happi

Today and yesterday were goooooood.

Yesterday I worked with the bitch that works at my work, AND SHE WAS NICEEEEEE.

I'm totally trying to kiss everyone's ass right now because I want to get my job back in January. So yeah, there's that.

I call it, "Mission: Get Mint's Job Back"; clever I know.

But basically, I told my boss that if someone doesn't work out, or if she likes me, or feels like being nice, she should hire me back :3 and I'm also telling all my work mates to just talk about me a TON when I'm gone. Talking about how awesome I am and how much they miss me.

ALSO, imma going to get EVERYONE Christmas cards and like a lil goodie bag thing, SO THEN EVERYONE WILL LOVE ME AND GET ME MY JOB BACK LUUUUL.

Like, it's the most boring job I've EVER had, but I la-la-loveeeee everyone who works there, and when there's a good day, it's a GOOD DAY. And also, I like not having to wear a uniform, I like that they give us candy sometimes, I like that I get money, and I like my discounttttt. But mostly I want my job back because I love the people.

So yeah, HOPEFULLY MY MISSION IS SUCCESSFUL.

I've been feeling MGMT a lot lately, just thought I'd throw that in hahaha

I'm SUPER excited to go Christmas shopping, and I REALLY wanna get more boots, and I'm REALLY wanting to get my finger tattoos.

I'm getting a sun and a moon in the inside of my left middle finger (to remember that the moon will set and the sun will rise, and tomorrow will come and you'll get through it), a yin yang symbol on the inside of my right ring finger (if you read my writing blog you'll have read about my yin yang realization regarding perfectionism), and a deer head silhouette with an infinity sign underneath on the outside of my right pinky (it symbolizes the song, Lover of the Light by Mumford and Sons which is my infinity song- like that feeling Charlie talks about in The Perks of Being a Wallflower- whenever I'm road tripping and that song comes on, I turn it up SUPER LOUD, and unroll all my windows and drive fast, and the feeling is magic. I love that song so much. It's so pure and like I LIKE WHAT IT STANDS FOR AND I RELATE TO IT BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, LIGHT FUCKING MESMERIZES ME AND ALL I WANT IN LIFE IS TO MAKE PEOPLE HAPPY; I WANNA BE EVERYONE'S SUNSHINE. And I feel like everything that that tattoo could mean, WOULD MEAN. So yeah, I'm pretty excited for that one in particular.

Last night I got drunk on the phone with B and it was fun, and then I really wanted to go out or hang out with someone. So I texted that guy that lives in the building next to mine but he was already out, so then I phoned my Toronto friend and I talked to him for like, TWO HOURS. In that time my neighbour got back home and invited me over to watch tv with him and his buddy, but by the time I replied and found that he was still up and I could still go over, it was like 3. And I worked in the morning so I said nooooo :( REGRETS. I wanna be his friend so bad!! Bahahaha he's so fucking chill, same with his friends!!

Today was good because sexy boys came into work and I was all SMITTENNNN. I love boys. And I love how when I'm in a good mood I'm all confident and talkative and not nervous and then they smile their cute boys smiles and I meltttttttt.

I want a boyfriend.

Fuck.

I'm excited to go out with Pumpkin when I fly back to Alberta! I miss her, and I love going out so it'll be a good timeeee!

I'm also excited to go out with Morgan this week too! BECAUSE ALL I WANT TO DO, HONESTLY, IS GO OUT AND DANCE. I WANNA DANCE SO BAD. I WANNA DANCE FOR FOREVER.

I've been in such a good mood the last few days BUT HAVE NO ONE TO SHARE IT WITH.

Omg, also, my roomie last night made cookies and I was so excited AND THEN SUDDENLY SHE LEFT AND SHE BROUGHT ALL THE COOKIES WITH HER. WHATTA BITCH, I'LL NEVER FORGIVE HER FOR WHAT SHE'S DONE.

COOKIE CUNT.

- Mint.

Frustrationssss.

Today was better.

I had a really good sleep, and my coffee this morning was AMAZE.

You know how sometimes your coffee is better than normal for some reason? Like everything's the same, but it's just better? IT WAS LIKE THAAAAT.

Work was boring, but it went relatively quickly and I got to have social interaction which I think helped.

I got home and made a really yum soup, and then really wanted gummy worms. And just sugar in general.

I talked the roomie into going to the fro-yo place, but it wasn't what I was wanting apparently because it didn't really make me happy.

I have to go buy some apples or something because I seriously crave soooo much sugar all the timeeeee.

ANYWAY, so I'm in a good mood and I want to GO FOR A WALK. BUT IT'S 10:30 AND IT'S COLD AND I HAVE NO FRIENDS.

DO YOU SEE THE ISSUE HERE? DO YOU SEE?

Fuck.

ALSO, earlier, when I wanted ice cream? I texted my boring friends (the pledge ones) saying, "ICE CREAM" and one didn't reply and the other replied with, "Lol."

Omg. Am I the only person who fucking GOES CRAZY WHEN PEOPLE REPLY LIKE THAT?

THE CAPITALIZATION OF THE FIRST L.
THE PERIOD AT THE END.
THE FACT THAT IT WASN'T ACTUALLY A REPLY.

WTF.

I FUCKING WANT TO MURDER HER.

HOW DID I GO FROM BEING HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, DREAMING OF ICE CREAM AND GUMMY WORMS, TO WANTING TO COMMIT A FELANY (IS THAT WHAT MURDER IS? I HAVE NO IDEA. IDEK WHAT A HOMICIDE IS).

THIS IS MY PERSONALITY. I SWEAR TO GOD. PEACEFUL FLAME, TO RAGING FIRE IN 0.5 SECONDS.

I don't get how people can be so TAME. AND BORING!?!?! Like, do you not have any passion? Is that the problem? FUCKING YELLLLLLL! FUCKING FLAIL YOUR ARMS ABOUT! DANCE! SING! SCREAM! WHISPERRRRRRRRR. CAPS LOCK. ADD A "BAHAHAHA" TO YOUR "HAHA"

LIKE.

FUCKING.

LIVE.

EXPERIENCE.

BE ALL OF YOU ALL THE TIME.

THAT'S WHAT I DON'T LIKE ABOUT PEOPLE. THEY'RE THEMSELVES ONLY IN FRONT OF CERTAN PEOPLE WHO MEET THEIR APPROVAL. WHY? THAT'S GAY. YOU MAKE YOURSELF SEEM SO DUMB AND PLAIN IN FRONT OF THE WORLD YOU KNOW.

ALSO.

SINCE I'M ALWAYS ON CASH AT WORK (OMG I'M STILL RAGING IN CAPS, SORry I'll calm it down here, deep breathe, in and out, OKAY LET'S GO) I deal with a lot of customers.

AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE, BELIEVEEEEE how many people like, aren't even people.

They come up to the till, and don't even acknowledge my PRESENCE. They assume I know what card they're flashing at me, WHEN THEY'RE FLASHING THE BACK OF THE CARD. BUT I MEAN REALLY, WHEN DOES ANY CASHIER NOT ASK HOW YOU'RE PAYING?

AND UM, PEOPLE DON'T EVEN SAY BYE. LIKE I THINK IT'S MORE AWKWARD NOT SAYING BYE THAN SAYING BYE.

RIGHT?

RIGHT???

I blame phones. People are so wrapped up in the internet they forget how to interact with actual people and like, be in the moment.

You know? YOU KNOW?! I don't know. I wish I had more friends. I really want to go for a walk....

I wish my dad was here, he'd go for a walk with me.

I'd say that I wish that my mom was here, but when we go for walks she gets all scared, AND whenever we go for walks together, it's like a MISSION. SO it's not that fun lolol

- Mint.

Hatred.

I hate myself so muchhhhh.

I'm going down, really really fast.

Built a fort and hid from the sunlight all day.

Actually cried. Multiple times. Which is big for me because I can never cry anymore.

I'm leaving for home on the 7th now. Was originally leaving on the 5th, was able to leave starting on the 3rd.

I'm not happy about that but, oh well I guess...

I just need to be home. NOW.

I don't know how I'll ever be able to live like an actual adult. I don't know how I'll ever be able to go places or meet people like actual humans.

I hate myself.

I hate life.

SO, SO, FUCKING MUCH.

I have nothing to say other than my heart is filled with hatred and I'm thinking of building a bigger fort in my closet because I don't want to sleep in my bed for some reason.

- Mint.

Fog and lists and words and punctuation.

Seeing my dad helped my anxiety this week.
Seeing my friends helped my anxiety this week.
Quitting my job helped my anxiety this week.

I realized that if I rid my life of what makes me anxious, then I won't be anxious.

So I quit my job. This makes me happy because I'll be able to go home for Christmas. And I'll be able to see my friends. And celebrate.

I'm happy because the main reason I'm broke is because I spend all my money at work, because I get a 50% discount.

So if I rid myself of dynamite, I won't earn money, and I won't lose money. And I won't be stressed because I'm late all the time. And I won't feel trapped.

I've decided that I hate feeling held down, you know? Like, driving around the city, I feel like I'm in a cage. I don't like having responsibilities of things to do. I want to do what I want to do whenever I want to do them.

I suppose that's pretty immature.

...

Ugh this fog in my headddd, I can't focus on anything. I can't accomplish anythingggg.

I feel like a vegetable. My mind might be going, but I can't do anything about it.

And I have no idea what to do to get rid of it.

But here's a list of good things:

• I like my hat because it's like wearing pjs in public, or having my teddy with me 24/7
• I like the tattoos I'm planning on getting
• My sweater smells really good and I wish I knew what perfume this is... maybe it's my mom's? Idk.
• I like writing, a lot a lot. And I'm glad that I actually do it. There's a lot of things I like but don't do, so I'm glad I actually write.
• I like the new notebook I got when I was home
• I love my teddy
• I get to go home I get to go home I get to go home
• I got to design the scarf layout at work last night and I had so much fun and I was so proud and the bitch at work was proud too and I decided that I like her and she showed everyone today my work and that made me happy.
•  
•  

I guess that's it. The worst parts about today is that I'm fat and hungry, no one reblogged or liked my poem (I USUALLY GET AT LEAST ONG NOTE, LIKE, I THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD POEM WTF), and I didn't get any school done because of the fogggggggg.

Um, if anyone knows how to go about being a writer of sorts, you should drop me a line because, I'd like to know.

- Mint.

Anxiety continued...

Omgggg I can't shake this anxietyyyy.

Earlier it started building and getting worse again so I decided to go for a drive.

I really needed to talk to someone but no one was available so I just drove by myself. Eventually I texted one of the pledges (they're sisters now since the pledge period finished today) to see if she wanted to drive around with me, but she was with our other pledge friend's house so she invited me there.

I decided to go just because I really wanted someone to talk to.

Not to talk about my problems, just... conversation.

So that helped a bit.

But now I'm back in my apartment. Back in my room. And the anxiety is back as well.

I hate it.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds? 

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues? 

Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling? 

Paul Varjak: Sure. 

Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name! 

This is why I watch Breakfast at Tiffany's. It's because I relate to it so much. No, I'm not a call girl but I am lost as fuck. And I'm a no-name slob.

I try to act like everything is fine, and like I know exactly what I'm doing and where I'm going but I'm lost and I'm scared, and I need a place like Tiffany's to get rid of these mean reds.

I'm tired of being scareddddd...

- Mint.

Black outs and anxiety.

I got realllllllly drunk on Thursday.

Like, I remember getting to the club, buying a shot, buying a drink, talking to a guy at the bar about who knows what AND THAT'S IT.

Morgan and I got to the club at about 11:30, we left apparently at 1. I LASTED AN HOUR AND A HALF.

I guess within that hour and a half I got a tequila shot, a highball, another tequila shot, another highball, and a free tequila shot from the bartender.

Before I left the apartment I had about half of a 2/6 of tequila. FUCK.

Apparently the guy I was talking to was super nice and super sexy too (according to Morgan). FUCK.

I guess he called Morgan and I M&M and I started flipping shit, because that's what I call us! He must've been my soulmate I swear to god. And later on in that hour and a half he found me again and was super excited about it. FUCK. GOD DAMMIT DRUNK MINT, GET SOME NUMBERS, JEEEZ.

I apparently couldn't get on the stage either. Shit. And then when we were leaving I guess I ran into the back of Morgan's head like SUPER hard. I guess she had a goose egg from it! And that explains why my nose hurts super fucking bad, STILL.

I also got a shit ton of bruises and rolled my ankle.

AND, when we were coming back to the apartment, I ended up throwing up outside the building and the cabby had to help Morgan get me to my apartment.

Shit I'm embarrassing...

All day yesterday and today I've been have my mini panic attacks again. I call them mini panic attacks because it's not like, one major episode, it's just toned down a bit and last for days; it's horrible. Last night I couldn't sleep at all because I was so anxious; heart fluttering about.

Today at work was so bad too because I was oh sooooo dizzy. And my heart was oh soooo jumpy.

I decided to withdraw from the only course I'm taking on campus, because campus is too scary. I can't handle it.

I also decided that I'm quitting my job. That way I can go home for Christmas. My last Christmas, at the home I grew up in. I'll be able to see my friends. And I won't be so stressed about being late, and also losing more and more time for school.

ANYWAY, I know I'm so pathetic and weak but whatever I guess. I need isolation. And I know that isolation is probably the worst thing for me, but whatever, I don't care.

I don't care because everything is piling up and it's getting heavier and heavier on my chest. I can't breathe and I'm constantly on the brink of tears.

YET FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CAN'T CRY. The closest I can get to that feeling of release is through writing. And I've been writing a hell of a lot lately...

I can't look people in the eye again.

I have the urge to cut again.

I want to shrink until I disappear...

The world is just too much for me.

And I need to escape.

- Mint.

HERRO

Here's the link to my writing blog.

It's probably stupid to link my actual self to here, but whatever. I feel like a lot of my poems pass over people's heads because they don't get them, because they doesn't understand that they're about this world, this one here.

- Mint.

I don't even have problems.

To continue my lost friends post saga, today I learnt that one of my friends was raped while in Ecuador.

She was raped by her host brother and he took her virginity.

After that she got a new host family, but was really fucked up for a bit. Control issues, you know? She felt like she needed to be in control of things so she'd do things such as not lay down (so stand or sit) for weeks at a time, she would shower with her clothes on, and she slept with her new host brother on her own terms. Just so that she could be in control of as many situations as possible.

Today was the first time that she had told anyone about it, and the only reason she did was because she had a really realistic flashback about the event, which turned into an intense anxiety attack.

I guess she's been thinking about it a lot the last couple of weeks because it's Rape Awareness month or something so her mind has been digging up the old demons.

When she told me, I honestly didn't know what to say. Like, I've never been in that situation and can't even imagine being in that situation. It must have been so confusing and scary in the moment, followed by a mess of other emotions.

She was 17 when it happened so it's been 2 years since the incident.

The other girl we were with was talking about her own major depression and how she had to take medication for it, and apparently she had an eating disorder too (she didn't go into much detail because I guess she had already talked about it before I got there).

Then there's me.

I've had nothing fucking bad happen to me. I live in this perfect bubble apparently where I create my own tragedies and I'm just pathetic really.

These people are going to class, doing well,  and are still in the sorority. They're succeeding and living even though they've experienced terrible things. They've seen true darkness so what have I been complaining about these last couple years?

Nothing, because I have no real problems. "Oh no, the dad I'm not even close to remarried!" "Oh no, my brother is getting loads of attention because he's 'suicidal'!" "Oh no, I'm fat! So I fast!" "Oh no I'm hungry, so I binge!" "Oh no I'm fatttttt!" "Oh no, I'm sad because I have no friends because I don't go outside!" "Oh no everyone hates me, mind as well cut myself!"

I'm fucking pathetic.

Everyone around me is dealing with real issues, and are doing just fine. What's my excuse?

"I can't focus."

Oh no, poor fucking little princess.

I'm so FUCKING self-centered, I mean look at where this post has gone! My friend got raped and I'm talking about myself. So pathetic. So disgusting.

I just wish that I could make everyone happy, and better. I wish I could erase the bad and replace it with good.

I wish I could do something. But I can't. Nothing I'm trying is working and I can't help anyone...

So useless.

- Mint.

I think I explained what I wanted to explain.

I'm fuelled by fire and my flame is ever changing.

I wish I could paint what I'm trying to explain, or at least use hand actions, but I will try my best to express meaning through words.

My friends are lost, and hurting. All of them I feel, are longing for the days where life wasn't so complicated. Where pinky promises were an unbreakable vow; where you knew what you wanted to be and saw no flaw in your plan; where everyone you cared about were in one, tiny little town; and where when you jumped, you ended up flying.

My friends are lost and scared and my heart goes out to them. My tea-light candle flame turns in with empathy, and flicks up with hope.

"I'll help them! I'll help them and I'll show them the light and they'll be happy and feel good and I'll feel oh so good with them!"

So I hike up my advice pants and lay it on them. I give them every word I've got. Every metaphor and simile, every pure thought I have in my head, I give.

But they turn away as if they hadn't heard a thing and my flame shrinks in the bitter cold.

The problem with being a generous soul.

"But they're tortured!" I think, "They're sad and tortured and their minds are corrupt with feelings of grief! Their walls are up, and the curtains are drawn. I just have to break through! I can break through to them!" my flame burns brighter, and dances on the wick with newly found optimism and determination as I try again.

I try and I try and I try again.

Words, words, words.

(Maybe there's a lesson here?)

And I begin to feel frantic. My flame is beginning to creep away, slowly losing control. I'm here, I'm there. I'm putting these words with those words. I'm distraught with continued trial and errors; desperately trying to solve the puzzle.

No one is listening and my flame is burning like the firebox of a freight train accelerating towards an unfinished track.

Hope, hope, hope. You can do it, you can do it, you can do it. Break. Through. The walls.

But again, nothing.

My flame calms in realization, but immediately after turns into hell fire.

MY PASSION IS ROARING AND I WANT THEM TO HEAR WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.

I WANT THEM TO LISTEN.

I WANT THEM TO GET BETTER.

WHY CAN'T THEY SEE HOW LUCKY THEY ARE TO HAVE SOMEONE WHO CARES SO MUCH ABOUT THEM? HOW COME THEY DON'T REALIZE WHAT A BLESSING IT IS TO NOT BE ALONE?

LISTEN TO MY WORDS.

BE HAPPY.

LET YOUR HEART THAW.

My fire burns with intensity, passion, and love. I want to shake them or slap them in the face; slap them into reality.

You see, my heart, my flame, is soft and eager. It wants to warm everyone who's close, everyone who gathers 'round. I want to be your sunshine.

But they have placed me on a wick, in the corner of the room.

Out of sight, out of mind.

And there will be no one to notice,

No one around me,

When I burn,

Out.

- Mint.

Friend frustrationsssssss

Last night I wrote down some old rules and am going to reinstate them:

1. Monday= Fast day
2. Soup for dinner
3. Only meal is dinner
4. 2 bowls allowed max of vegetable soups (no creamed soups)
5. 2 eggs on toast allowed for dinner on weekends
6. Pickles okay for snacks

I've got like 2 months until New Years, AND I WANT TO BE BACK IN THE 130'S SO BADDDDDD.

Also, it seems that everyone around me lately is complaining like sooooo fucking much. And I'm trying so hard to make everything better for them. I'm making them cake, buying them coffee, buying them FUCKING FLOWERS FROM A PROVINCE AWAY, giving advice, like, GOOD advice left right and centtttt, reading scripts, checking up on them frequently to make sure they're okay, staying late at work to help tidy, and like FUCKKKKKKK NO ONE'S GOD DAMN LISTENING TO ME.

THEY'RE ALL WRAPPED UP SO DEEP IN THEIR SELF-PITY TO EVEN LISTEN TO THE WORDS I'M FUCKING SAYING.

It's like everything I'm doing is a waste.

I know that the point of being nice isn't to get recognition, but I mean, it'd be nice if they at least fucking LISTENED. I'm not a wall, sorry. You can't just vent to me and get nothing back in return. And when you get something back, OPEN IT UP AND BE LIKE, AH, HOW LOVELY. I HAVE A FRIEND WHO CARES ABOUT MY EXISTENCE. LUCKY ME.

FUCK.

- Mint.

I think I'm a good thinker.

I've decided that I'm in love with writing.

I love it, and I crave it and if I don't get to write frequently, it eventually just bubbles out into pages and pages of words and thoughts.

It's like singing to me now.

I remember in first year, I didn't sing for like a month because I knew that everyone living around me would be able to hear me.

But then one day I couldn't handle it anymore and I swear I sung for a week straight.

I need these things that badly.

My soul is addicted.

I decided to not drop out. But to take school veryyyyyyy slowlyyyyyyyyy.

Mostly because I thought of a killer research thingy that I could do for my masters or something:

   The other day my friend told me that he was taking a course that's all about time, and I laughed and asked what he learnt about in that class because I don't even think time exists. Puzzled, he asked why I didn't think time exists and I replied explaining how I feel like everything just cycles in a big circle (which has no beginning or end) like the big timekeeper itself (the clock). He thought I was crazy and explained how, no, time DOES exist and then explained how all of my cycle examples aren't actually cycles. 

    I said that I thought I was looking at it with a big picture perspective, and that he was looking at it with a detailed perspective. He said that, no, he was looking at it with science. Which was correct. I asked him why he was so close-minded and wondered what it would be like to discuss religion with him. He said that religion was different because I could believe what I believe and he could believe what he believes.

It's really hilarious because what we were discussing truly was religion. Not the classic, "I believe in this god" religion, but abstract religion for sure. I thought something and he thought something else. Really, neither can prove that the other is correct, or wrong. Because in reality, science doesn't know everything.

There is no way to tell that what we know is true. Sure, studies can show that we might be pretty close, or right... until it's proven wrong.

Just THINK about the universe, and how big it is. HOW DO WE KNOW THAT SHIT ISN'T ALL DIFFERENT SOMEWHERE ELSE? HOW DO WE KNOW THAT EVERYTHING WE KNOW NOW ISN'T JUST A HUGE CYCLE? HOW. DO. WE. KNOW.

So, since we don't know, this whole time existing, time not existing thing is really religion. Is there a god? Is there not a god?

But because it's not labeled in conversation as religion, people's true opinions aren't censored by political correctiveness. When labels dissipate, we can really see a person's core beliefs.

So as my master's or doctorate experiment/research thingy, I really want to explore this more to see how /if our society has really progressed as a whole. Do we really believe in equality and all that jazz? Or do we believe in it just because we are told to?

And since this is a social psychology experiment, I'm hoping to work with my most favourite professor ever! Paul Davies. He's super interesting and really hyped on coffee all the time so I think he'd be a good professor to get close to if I want to continue my degree. Which, right now anyway, I want to do. BECAUSE MY IDEA REALLY SOUNDS INTERESTING.

Anyway, I'm fat and that needs to be fixed.
And I'm also debating whether or not I should try to go vegan again.
I don't know.
I don't know anything!

- Mint.