There’s a subtle bliss that hides itself within silence. I believe I’m composed of that very silence. A silence that lends definition to my existence. Yet my musings seem to be those of a world entirely different from that which surrounds and I’m often left to marvel at simple happenings which seem to be of significant consequence to the people I share my life with. An observer, I look inside and often suffer from an utter disgust at aimlessness that at a certain point encroaches upon my being. But then I am Stoic, one who will rise and bear no resemblance to pain though there might be a storm raging within. I believe that every individual is an experience in himself, that the sole purpose of life is to touch; touch heights, hearts and someday, happiness. It’s funny how I aim to rise above worldliness and attain a certain degree of greater wisdom though I’m no greater a human than anyone else; how I choose to take slow, carefree steps in the seriousness that has engulfed us all, in that race to make it before the rest. I dream of breaking through to the other side someday, achieving a state of complete ignorance of pleasure or pain, a state of being one with myself and The Creator. As the world twists and turns around me, I struggle to uphold my identity and realize I am what you make me; an artist, thinker and a rebel.