P.S.

Fatima, I love you too.

XOXOXOXOOXOXEMNASXOXOXXXOOXOXXOOXOXSHMEXXHYXOXOOXOXOXOXXO

Fatima!

I do! I just did!

FARIA!

YOU NEVER WRITE ANYTHING!

So damn happy

Hi, it's Faty, and I'm so damn happy I can't even express it.


I love you.

Animal Testing

~Faty

Hi guys. Lately I've become somehow aware of animal testing - used in the testing for everyday products... After I watched videos of animal testing, I was horrified. I was so horrified I couldn't stop thinking about it. I decided to do a little research and I found these two videos that are quite informative - they don't only point out the inhumanity in these methods, but they also explain that it is not scientifically supported... Just look at them.


PART 1




PART 2





It's not just animal testing... It's also other cruelties towards animals that disgust me to no end. I guess everyone knows about that girl in a red hood throwing those poor puppies into a streaming river. How can people even bare to THINK of such things?! I just watched this short video of illegal turtle trade somewhere in Bangladesh... They are practically an't even express my sadness. I feel sick just to think about it, let alone write.





ANIMALS HAVE RIGHTS FOR ALL OF GODS CREATURES COMPRISE HIS 'FAMILY'.

"A woman was punished and thrown into Hell-fire on account of her 

cat. She kept it tied up till it died of hunger; she never gave it 

something to eat nor drink, nor let it go so that it could eat things on 

earth." (Bukhari, Muslim)

The Prophet (pbuh) also said: "'Forgiveness was granted to a 

prostitute! She came upon a dog, at the moth of a well, which was 

panting and was about to die of thirst. She took off her leather sock, 

tied it with her headscarf and drew some water from the well for the 

dog. It was for this act of kindness that she was forgiven her sins." 

When asked, "Are we rewarded even for good we do to animals?" he 

replied, "Reward is given for good done to any living creature." 

(Bukhari, Muslim)

My head is hurting so much, I can't do much about it. However, this does not mean I don't at least PLAN to do anything. Before buying any other products, like makeup or cosmetics, make sure you are not financially aiding the torture of these poor animals... I'm not willing to spend one more cent towards this.


Secondly, I plan to do some more work on this, like joining PETA for example. I can't just sit here and watch, not for long. I can't even imagine seeing Giulio, or Tobi, or Misa, or any other animal dear to me under such suffering.


Thirdly, sorry for being boring, my head exploded and I just wanna cry :"(


-SK

Cockroaches and Apples

~Faty

A couple of years ago I  started writing this thing... I dunno, I read after years and I'm like: "This is so cute!"


Have a look.

............................................................................................

.The Butterfly and the Fairy.

1. Red

Axel had woken up at six that morning, and that, for him, was surely a record worth to be published in his personal Guinness book. Unfortunately for him, everyone else was fast asleep, including Ariel, his beloved little sister, also known as his favorite cook. It was a good thing that his mother hadn’t kicked him out of the house yet; living alone meant making your own meals… With this miserable thought in mind, the redhead ventured out of his bedroom, trying to persuade himself to start training for his future.

He tiptoed out of his room attempting to not make any noise that could cause his roommate brother and mother to wake up and start some stupid inquiry, but that ended up being a complete failure since his slippers weren’t contributing to the being-as-quiet-as-possible condition. The boy – the young man, to be more precise – mentally huffed and puffed and went back inside the boundaries of his sanctuary (a.k.a. his bedroom) and promptly kicked his slippers off. Then he sprinted towards the door again.

Bad idea. The coldness of the floor pierced his feet like chilly needles, and for a moment Axel wondered why the hell the tiles weren’t made of ice per se. He put his slippers back on, to hell with the flop-flop sound, and made for the door. But before he could even get a hold of the doorknob, another interruption came rushing up to him. Swearing under his breath, he went to the bathroom instead. Good thing he got to own one out of the four bathrooms they had in their house.

Anyway, after he finished whatever he needed to do, he went outside again. He Pink-Panthered his way to Ariel’s room. He was first going to see if she was awake; if she was, he’d beg her to save him from dieing of hunger, and if she wasn’t, to hell with her.

When he entered the very small room, he saw her fast asleep on the upper bunk bed, the lower hosting the sprawled seven-years-old Rikku. Axel frowned, and just when he was about to turn around and flee, a hiccup escaped his throat.

Ariel twitched slightly, but didn’t wake up.

Axel twitched as well, but he was already awake.

Oh great, now he was hiccupping! He crept down the stairs with his sore feet and instantly found himself inside a spacious living room. Without any hesitation, he ran into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He gulped as much as a bird could have, but that was enough to stop the hiccups. He internally thanked Kami and grinned maliciously at the fridge.

Sneak sneak, went the cat. Creak creak, went the door… but the fridge was empty.

As always.

He should have expected that… They never bought any instant crap anyway… Not after having moved from big city Radiant Garden to small town like Twilight, a month ago, after realizing that they would have to live on the streets if they did not start to save money a.s.a.p.

Axel sighed exasperatedly and walked towards the cupboards. When he reached them, he didn’t open them straight away. He dithered for some minutes, trying to think in a more realistic way.

Thought #1: What the heck, it’s not like there’s a readymade breakfast inside the motherf… thing!

Thought #2: So why in the world should I open it in the first place?

Thought #3: Because I’m dieing of hunger. There might be a little something… like coff-

Thought #4: HURRY UP ASSHOLE!

With a last resolute gulp, he yanked them open with the fierceness of the anorexic pyromaniac he knew to be.

But before he could even make out the complete profile of a coffee jar, the kitchen lights were turned on. Gasping like a burglar caught red-handed, Axel rapidly slammed the doors and gaped at the other intruder.

Seifer stared back at him with a competing jaded look on his face.

Axel frowned.

Seifer blinked.

Axel glared.

Seifer ignored him and went to the counter.

When had his brother woken up? Just a few minutes ago he had seen him perfectly unconscious, head hanging from one corner of the bed and a pool of drool collecting on the floor… eww. Axel decided to ignore him as well and jerked the cupboard open again, dived for the coffee jar, and slammed the damn thing shut, but not before a cockroach came dashing frantically towards the exit and landed right on his nose.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Axel gritted his teeth while enclosing the poor creature in a loose fist.

Axel was not normally moody in the mornings, but when he was, life made sure to instantly become too tough for him to live. For instance: when the apoplectic redhead banged a glass of water into the microwave, life decided to apply some resultant force and made half the water go splish splash. Axel’s eyebrow narrowed a little more at that, but let it slide. Too bad life had not finished yet; when Axel was retrieving the water, she made it go splish splash again and almost burnt the poor cockroach trapped between the guy’s fingers... Axel cursed her, but he left it at that. Then came the coffee making; with a sly snigger resounding from her invisible silhouette, life first evoked a shortage of sugar (this resulted to a big black spurt surging from the victim’s mouth), then she tipped some extra coffee in it (this resulted to a gigantic fountain erupting from the already mentioned source). In short, life sneered while watching him restart the strenuous process with an impish little rub here and there, but when Axel finished with a huge thankful grin on his face, he realized that his brother had been staring at him wide-eyed during the whole five minutes of arduous wartime… er, labor.

“What?” he struggled to sound indifferent; it was very difficult to do so when you really are worried about your brother when he looks at you with a taunt mask of terror, something quite uncommon on a tough and manly face like his.

Seifer put his glass down and leaned on the counter towards Axel like a predator snake slithering up to a rather dangerous enemy.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?!” He hissed incredulously, his open mouth dallying over the countertop.

Axel glared poisonous daggers, kunais, and shurikens at him for the second time that morning, but when he semi-opened his left fist to fling ‘sweetheart’ into Seifer’s open mouth, he hesitated.

The poor creature was a terrified little piglet shrouded by the darkness of his palm, but while watching it more attentively, he realized that it was of a burgundy color.

Hmm… a red cockroach? Might as well…

… The thought was left incomplete, for Axel quickly fled from the kitchen with his newfound friend crawling over the tips of his fingers.

But not before leaving a last wave and a kiss in midair for his stupefied brother to decode.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in a place not so far away, Roxas scratched his hand, his not-so-sharp nails grazing across a particular red spot. His dark blue eyes narrowed at the irritating bubble that had just formed at the back of his hands, just below his pinkie. Stupid mosquito… There it was, flying straight towards his nose! But before Roxas could properly aim, the insect rapidly changed direction, making the boy slap himself right on the bridge of his nose, his glasses burying painfully into the corner of his eyes.

“Bloodymotherfuckshitholeasspudding…” He hissed furiously and got up from his bed, off to teach that insolent flying shit a lesson.

He sniggered maliciously while his fingers rotated a certain button. Hah, let’s see how it deals with the fan revolving at the highest speed… As expected, when he returned to sit on his bed and got back into whatever he was doing before the mosquito declared war, he did not feel a single bite at his precious skin. He smirked at the thought of the puny insect trapped in a vortex right over his head… And justice for all!

… No, Roxas didn’t listen to Metallica. Nor was he mentally challenged. The truth was… that he became a different person whenever he was alone. Especially at six in the morning. Especially when he’s frustrated with annoying things like mosquitoes and homework… but let’s not get into that. Let us all return to a saner world.

Roxas glared at his computer screen intently before closing the Microsoft Word document he had been working on; he’ll finish his assignment later… For now he needed to relax a little from all the working he had been doing since 3 a.m. This happened to him many times, though irregularly; he would wake up just before dawn from the same old nightmare and be unable to close his eyes for the following hours. And those were the times when he would suddenly start to act weird… Like talking to himself, cursing nonsensical swears at mosquitoes and then shouting (in his mind) the names of albums of metal artists he didn’t even enjoy listening to.

Roxas sighed tiredly and decided to open the windows. As much as he loved darkness and his beautiful blue and violet curtains, he also liked to avoid headaches. His wish was more than granted: for the first time in days, he felt sunlight penetrate into his room in a way it seldom did before. On the white walls of the neighbor’s house he could see light orange rays, yellow even, from the newly rising sun… It was a pity that he could not see the dawn from his room. But hey, he had this huge balcony with glass doors just outside his bedroom facing the west, i.e. the lime green hills behind which the sun would start to hide every day during twilight. It was a really nice scenery, one for which Twilight Town was famous.

Somehow this morning was special, Roxas realized when his nose detected a faint scent of something he liked very much. That scent… it was his favorite scent, but he was surprised to smell it so early in a summer morning. His eyes squinted in search of the source of the scent, in order to confirm it. In a few seconds he did – flashing ethereally against the first sunlight, he noticed minute and thin droplets of rain falling from a cloudy sky. But in a matter of what seemed like seconds, the rain was gone.

“Wow,” Roxas whispered out loud this time, unable to contain his surprise.

He surprised himself with his surprise. He wasn’t a person who could be astounded so easily. But somehow, the mere scenery of the neighbor’s wall hit a little something in his brain. How was that possible? Things like this happened only when you are high or drunk…

Then something just occurred to Roxas: it’s freakin’ six in the freakin’ morning! He was not in his right mind at this time of the day, never… and he knew it. He was too stunned by his unusual character quirk to talk about it to his friends and family, but he was man enough to admit it to himself. He was crazy. Temporarily, yes, but crazy nonetheless.

There was a reason he was like this, he believed. Yes… it must be because of the bigass hit in the head that he had experienced two years ago. The one that made him forget everything, what was that condition called? Amnesia. Retrogade amnesia, maybe. Sure, he forgot his name and the face of his own mother for a while, but hey, he still remembered how to read, fry eggs, and use the shower. (Never mind the fact that he still had doubts about certain things such as the utility of rubber ducks.) It had taken him some time, but after some months of drama, anger, and training from both his and his acquaintances’ parts, he was finally able to lead his pre-hit-in-the-head life again. But then again, there were still some problems (forget the rubber duck for Pete’s sake) left unsolved… particularly those concerning his behaviour. At first, his friends said that he had changed a little, but just a little – he was able to get rid of weird habits (such as shaking random people’s hands out of the blue) and maintained some other new habits which were not so bad (such as uttering an average of five words per hour). At last he got used to his old but new friends and they got used to this old but new Roxas. His friendship life was okay, his friends would comment on his grown-out-of-amnesia high maturity once in a blue moon, but those comments were negligible. They liked Roxas, even if he was a little different from the old Roxas. They understood that people changed, especially in adolescent years and when they hit their head against a really hard thing such as good old concrete.

But there was one person who refused to welcome the newborn Roxas with open arms or with a small but genuine smile at least – his mother. Okay, maybe she was upset about her own son treating her like a stranger for some days, but that was temporary. In fact, later on, Roxas learned how to spell out her name (C-A-S-S-E-E-D-E-E) and even remembered her extraordinary talent at cooking. Come on, every mother likes their son to arrogantly announce that his mother’s cooking is the best. But in Mrs. Highwind’s case, whenever she saw Roxas drooling over her perfectly cooked meals, her eyes would well up with tears.

“You’re not supposed like French fries! You’re supposed to hate potatoes! You’re supposed to like pasta!” she would whine and then leave the dining room, a confused Roxas staring after her while licking his salty lips.

Notice the italicized word present in all the three sentences Mrs. Highwind had mentioned; in fact, she mentioned this word frequently when talking to or about her ‘disturbed’ son. Supposed to? What the heck?! Roxas liked whatever he liked, there was no supposing. Sure, pasta was good too… as long as it had potatoes in it.

But apparently it wasn’t only potatoes that disturbed his mother. There was also the sudden increase in his maturity level… Well, that’s how his teachers called it anyways, although Roxas personally thought that it didn’t have much to do with maturity. Just because now he’s quieter than before, pays more attention to classes, gets better grades and is quite formal with anybody didn’t mean that he had ‘matured’. There are people who act like retards who are more mature than they let everyone else know. Roxas vaguely remembered an event, among a good quantity of others, that had occurred a few years before he hit his head; it was his thirteenth birthday and he had stolen his friend Olette’s piece of the cake and had savagely devoured it in public. Everyone had laughed at his prank, even Olette and her mother… But after the guests had gone home Mrs. Highwind had slapped her son with the fury of a fairytale evil stepmother. Apparently she had not liked her son’s behavior, something that had embarrassed her to life. She seemed to forget that it had been Roxas’s birthday, and that all she had given to him genuinely as a present was an angry slap.

She was missing her water only now that the fountain’s gone, was all Roxas came up with as an explanation. But somehow, even that did not make any sense because his mother still pushed him into doing things such as delivering pies to the neighbors, setting him up with ‘nice’ girls from well respected families, buying dorky clothes for him, insisting on making him ‘pull up’ his pants, giving him sweaters for Christmas, etc. God, couldn’t she just make up her mind?! Old Roxas or new Roxas? What was her problem?!

It was a good thing that she was not about to make him visit a psychiatrist. His teachers disagreed with this choice (they likey new Roxey), and his mother didn’t want to ruin her reputation by letting everyone know that he son was retarded, abnormal, whatever… Crazy suited Roxas just fine. But only Roxas called himself crazy. That’s because in front of everyone he was a nice young boy, but then… at times like this (the clock just signalled seven in the morning), when he was all alone, after killing a mosquito and cursing his homework and witnessing a 5-second rainfall with the neighbor’s house as background… he felt different.

Simply different.

… Well, let’s just forget about this for now and concentrate on… breakfast maybe? Roxas’s tummy grumbled just in time.

When he got downstairs to the kitchen, he saw that his mother was already up and the smell of toast was filling the air.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Mrs. Highwind smiled in a way that reminded Roxas of a certain girl in Roxas’s class who ate sugar all day long.

She poured some apple juice and handed the glass to Roxas. Oh God, not again… Roxas stared desperately at the juice; should I drink you or should I not? Am I supposed to drink you? … Nah, drinks can’t talk, unfortunately. So Roxas sought advice from the only other available advisors – his instincts. What could possibly make both him and his mother happy?

Carefully, Roxas handed the glass of juice back to his mother.

“Sorry, mum,” he frowned, avoiding looking at his mother’s face, “I don’t drink juice in the morning,” I don’t think anyone does ‘cause, I mean, eww… “And besides, I don’t like apple.”

Nobody said anything for a while, not even when little Ven came rushing into the kitchen and shouted for waffles. Roxas kept nibbling at his lower lip, waiting for his mother to make the first move (wait, that sounds odd…). At last, he felt her walk away. He looked up; he was facing her back while she set the glass on the table, just in front of Ven.

The 7-years-old boy, so similar to Roxas that they could have been exchanged for brothers, pouted. “I don’t drink in the morning, Auntie. And besides,” he said with the same tone Roxas had used earlier when uttering the same thing, “I thought we all hated apple.”

Roxas’s eyes widened in realization. But of course! Now he remembered! The whole Highwind family hated apples! No wonder he never saw the name of the fruit in the grocery list! And there never was a sign of the fruit in the whole house… Roxas bit his lips. What was his mother trying to do? Testing him again? But this was crossing the line. Potatoes were different – no one had problems with taters except the ‘old’ Roxas. But apples – everyone in this house, no, this family hated them and his mother just wasted 50 cents on buying a whole bottle of apple juice! On purpose!

Gritting his teeth, the dirty-blond marched to the fridge and grabbed the milk. He angrily poured some on a bowl and after his cereals were ready, he went back to his room without a word. No way in hell he was going to have breakfast in the same room as her, with the disgusting smell of apples in the air (which wasn’t very strong, but whatever) and the unbearable view of a glass of juice which is to go to waste along with the rest in the bottle. Grr…

~~~~~~~~~

That's it!

P.S. Tell me again, was it love at first sight, when I walked by and you caught my eye? Didn't you know love could shine this bright?! I'm sorry I ever tried, deer in the headlights!

Roller coaster though the atmosphere...

~Faty

Here is a blog post by Adam Young (Owl City).

The Lighted Carriage and the Starlit Night

On September 26th, 2011 by Adam Young

I’m pages away from finishing a marvelous book by John Piper entitled, “Desiring God” and a few nights ago I stumbled across something tucked away in one of the book’s appendices that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
First, a bit of preface.
Without delving too deep, Piper defines what he calls Christian Hedonism as the way by which “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him,” furthering the idea that man’s chief end is to glorify God. He goes on to explain the following:
We all make a god out of what we take the most pleasure in. Christian Hedonists want to make God their God by seeking after the greatest pleasure — pleasure in him.
By Christian Hedonism, we do not mean that our happiness is the highest good. We mean that pursuing the highest good will always result in our greatest happiness in the end. We should pursue this happiness, and pursue it with all our might. The desire to be happy is a proper motive for every good deed, and if you abandon the pursuit of your own joy you cannot love man or please God.
The Difference Between Worldly and Christian Hedonism:
Some people are inclined to believe that Christians are supposed to seek God’s will as opposed to pursuing their own pleasure. But what makes Biblical morality different than worldly hedonism is not that Biblical morality is disinterested and duty-driven, but that it is interested in vastly greater and purer things. Christian Hedonism is Biblical morality because it recognizes that obeying God is the only route to final and lasting happiness. Here are some examples of this from the Bible:
Luke 6:35 says, “Love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great.” It is clear when Jesus says “expect nothing in return” that we should not be motivated by worldly aggrandizement, but we are given strength to suffer loss by the promise of a future reward.
Again, in Luke 14:12-14: “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your kinsmen or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return, and you be repaid. But when you give a feast, invite the poor… and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. You will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.” That is, don’t do good deeds for worldly advantage; rather, do them for spiritual, heavenly benefits.-John Piper
Beyond that, I’ll let you read the book for yourself and draw your own conclusions if you find yourself searching for deeper meaning. The subject of this blog entry is not about Christian Hedonism directly, but rather about a quote within “Desiring God”that I found ASTOUNDING and haven’t been able to get out of my mind since.
Piper writes:
In “The Simple Life”, Vernard Eller delights himself in some of the great parables of SØren Kierkegaard. One of his favorites is the parable of the lighted carriage and the starlit night. We could also call it the crisis of Christian Hedonism. It goes like this:
“When the prosperous man on a dark but starlit night drives comfortably in his carriage and has the lanterns lighted, aye, then he is safe, he fears no difficulty, he carries his light with him, and it is not dark close around him. But precisely because he has the lanterns lighted, and has a strong light close to him, precisely for this reason, he cannot see the stars. For his lights obscure the stars, which the poor peasant, driving without lights, can see gloriously in the dark but starry night. So those deceived ones live in the temporal existence: either, occupied with the necessities of life, they are too busy to avail themselves of the view, or in their prosperity and good days they have, as it were, lanterns lighted, and close about them everything is so satisfactory, so pleasant, so comfortable — but the view is lacking, the prospect, the view of the stars.”
This parable BLEW MY MIND. What a potent dose of perspective these words are! And furthermore, which man am I? Am I MISSING OUT completely on the beauty that lies around me because I choose to live in a temporal existence occupied with the pleasures/necessities of life versus an awareness and enjoyment of God?
Piper summarizes:
Eller comments, “Clearly, ‘the view of the stars’ here intends one’s awareness and enjoyment of God.” The rich and busy who surround themselves with the carriage lights of temporal comfort, or the busy who cover themselves with troublesome care, cut themselves off from what Kierkegaard calls “the absolute joy”:
What indescribable joy! — joy over God the Almighty… for this is the absolute joy, to adore the almighty power with which God the Almighty bears all thy care and sorrow as easily as nothing.
Wow.
If you really mull this over, it’ll have you tossing and turning in no time — and the more you think about it, the more profound it becomes.
I’m a thinker, not a talker. Mind pictures, exemplums and allegories hit home. This one was a grand slam.
I’m unbelievably excited about this.

And here's my comment to it, hoping that Adam would read it:

Fatima says:

October 2, 2011 at 6:09 pm

It is a well-thought parable indeed.

I have been through a very deep depressing period for the last eleven months. I had been so absorbed in my worldly problems that I had forgotten to love God, even though I pronounced His name numerous times every day. I have been so depressed that I did things such as hurt myself, and also think about suicide almost all the time… But only yesterday did I stop to think that whatever sadness I was feeling… it would have been something if it was for God, but it wasn’t! I was so in love with worldly things and persons, that I forgot that my utmost love should go to God! Why was I thinking “No, I shouldn’t commit suicide because I would go to hell.”? I should have been thinking: “I cannot commit suicide, because the purpose of this act would be directed at worldly pleasures, and not God!” An action is always astray and incomplete if it is not committed to gain God’s pleasure; that IS the way to true happiness.

I was so lost. Actually, it’s so easy to get lost nowadays, isn’t it? It’s becoming tougher and tougher to keep in touch with reality, the REAL reality, the one that is inside you, and not the superficial one you can hold in your hands.

I too am asking myself: am I holding my own light, or the light of God? Am I the rich (wo)man with the lanterns, or the star peasants on the streets? I don’t want to pursue what is temporary… I want the pleasure to stay forever in my heart, and not on my hands.

 Arachno chuu.


P.S. My latest obsession. "Where was I when the rockets came to life, and carried you away to the alligator sky? Even though I'll never know what's up ahead, I'm never letting go, I'm never letting go! Roller coaster through the atmosphere..."

Vanilla Twilight

~Faty

The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here

I'll watch the night turn light-blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly

The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly

I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone

But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone

I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone

As many times as I blink
I'll think of you tonight
I'll think of you tonight

When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again

And I'll forget the world that I knew
But I swear I won't forget you
Oh, if my voice could reach
Back through the past
I'd whisper in your ear
Oh darling, I wish you were here.

The Qalb Diagram

~Faty

Hi. I've been depressed for a looooooong time now. I'm at a point in my life where nothing is going according to plan, and the things that keep happening are really bad.

For example, I've been trying call a friend to wish him happy birthday, but he's not picking up his phone. I have this feeling that he's angry with me. Oh well, I just hope he liked the gift that I sent him or at least read my HB messages.

Anywho, I've decided to clear out my heart to make some sense of this life. So I made a diagram.

Please feel free to suggest more arrows and double and triple arrows. This is not a complete diagram, nor is it meant to be absolute. However, I'm trying to keep things simple, so don't tell me to add little details that can be explained in a collective way.

Because it's easier to remember everything that way.

I'll be looking at this diagram all the time when I feel lost, so help, help, help, dears.

P.S. If you leave a flaming comment, I'm not even gonna bother. Teach, do not preach, for people like explanation, not confrontation.