Aesthetic Necessities

I want to live with my parents forever because my passion does not bring the money for independence while mother chases away the beatniks because my lifestyle does not bring distinguishable satisfaction

I want to sleep on the floor of a ramshackle drug house, the rats biting my toes to wake me up and lice tap dancing in the forests of my head – a morning fix to add to the joy of working or living or bleeding as the pen quivers at the sight of my magical fingers

I want to curl up into a depressed ball of self loathing after reading rejection letters as my ex-sanguinated soul was not valuable or tainted enough to make money at the big summer sale

I want to be a burden for every friend I’ve ever made my drunken shenanigans remuneration for the never ending pile of favours that empties every wallet and coils around every mind like the shrewd boa of Eden

I want to contemplate suicide in the heartbroken shoes of eternal doomed romantics because my genius is left undiscovered for future generations to find and only then praise in my afterlife

I want to be the saintly nomad of the world – leaving pieces of his angelic heart in every village, fragments of his intellectual brain in every town and his dharma soul scattered throughout the rock

I want to embrace the radiantly malignant bosoms of life – losing myself in the love-struck snatches of the Aphrodite harpies, losing myself in the void of deliberate hallucinations, losing myself in the starry abyss of indie, psychedelic jazz and blues

I want to die too soon by the hand of god or my contradicting hand – my legacy is my life and its infinite struggles that enhance the eventual victories. Tears, blood and madness left behind for the miserable sheep that choose to follow and get high on tea and drunk in nightclubs and copulate ecstatically and write through tearful eyes then die at 27 and I am forgotten and they are reborn

I want to revolutionize the world with my essence – my artistic words to resurrect my heroic saviors and guarantee the sweet release of immortality.

- Gilroy Van Wyk

South African Mechanical-engineer-to-be-turned-wordsmith seeking self-enlightenment by embracing life, many religions, and every bit of knowledge this wonderful world has to offer.

Read Gilroy's 'Era of a Ruined Gods' in HASH E-zine Issue 04 here.

Medusa No. 2 by Japanese Artist Hiroko Sakai

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What Life Is

Seasons change, night falls, day breaks, wealth fades, and technology ages but life is way more than that.

One cool summer night, I was gazing at the dark but starry heavens lit by the fullness of the moonlight when a scene caught and captivated my clouded senses. A scene that reminded me of what life on earth should be. A family in their barong-barong just meters away from where I am. A shelter made up of a recycled and rusted aluminium roof that, should an ant sneeze, would surely be blown off. Uneven wood flooring on which they spend their nights dreaming of their unrealized dreams and routine candle lit dinners. Sofas and toilets that flush shall forever remain a mystery to them. Their children go to school with faded and crumpled school uniforms, worn out bags, mismatched socks and- if they’re lucky enough- a good pair of shoes. Life was kept out of complexity. They don’t have televisions to spend watching dramas through the night; they don’t have Steve Jobs to reach the virtual world; they are strangers to Android; they don’t even have a bed to call their own. They don’t have Louis Vuitton or Hermes; they cook their food on firewood; they study their lessons through candle light, yet you can still see happiness and contentment in their eyes.

The scene made me feel light-hearted and realize how lucky I was to have parents working their butts off to send me to prestigious schools providing all the decent things I need. How lucky I was that when I was younger, I always had a new set of school supplies at the start of every school year. How lucky I was to own a Barbie when I was a kid, that I’m a computer literate at the age of 11, that I can goof around the club and eat on buffet anytime I want, that I am here writing this with an excellent power source.

Life is neither about wealth nor prestige, they are just merits. But real life? It is appreciating what you have and being happy despite of the detours, humps and road repairs during the journey. Learn to appreciate everything. If you are in pain, feel it! If you are confused, pray. If you are happy, scream at the top of your lungs, laugh your heart out, dance under the rain, and take chances. We’ve got only one life to live, dare to be different and make memorable memories.

-Julie Anne Damudara
Inspired, Inspirational, and dedicated, Julie Anne is a 20-year-old writer from the Philippines.

Artwork by Marta Dahlig

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The Window to Our Souls

Davey by Shannon Lee

Eyes. Four letters. One meaning. The windows to our souls. Help us detect an unnoticed  lie and an obvious truth. Let us see light against dark. An advantage and a burden. One body part. Liberates right from wrong. Keeps us in place but can help us fall in depth. Controls our thinking and lets us escape reality. Eyes closed. Have our imaginations take over and leave the world behind. Another world. Eyes wide open. Lets us find out who we are. Why we choose to be the person we are today. A scary thought. A miracle. Eyes.

- Reza Moreno

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The Trace

                          

                                                       Hashthemag- Tumblr

I was lying on the roof top one evening, staring at the glowing sky. I was mesmerized by the twinkling stars, how they are so far away yet you can still see their beauty. Then the weirdest thought occurred to me... What am I really bedazzled by? Travelling light?

I say I'm looking at stars, but I'm actually staring at the trace they left behind. It was an illusion.

It reminded me of the people who walk in then walk out of our lives every day. They always leave something behind, something to remember them by. Good memories. Bad memories. Their belongings. Maybe even things they "accidently" left behind.

I think of how they appear to be one person the moment they walk into our lives... how we bond, build trust, create a foundation for the relationship to be built upon... and then think of the person they are when they walk out. You get that feeling that the person walking out that door is a complete stranger.

I remember personally thinking... How could I have not known that he or she would turn out to be like this? How could I have been so blind? How could I have not seen this coming? How could I be so foolish?

I was living an illusion.

Then like everybody else I sit and I mourn, I scream and I yell, I curse and I cry, sooner or later... I move on.

Five years down the line, I meet someone, I become part of his life, we become good friends for three years... maybe even more than friends. And the moment I was in arm's reach of something better, something I thought to be "valuable" at the time, I walk right out of his life and go on like he never existed.

I get a flashback of the person who was very important to me and walked out of my life. And the reality of what I was doing was like a slap in the face.

The person who I walked out on, who was suffering because of me didn't deserve the pain I caused him. And for what... for genuinely caring about me? Who was I to do such a thing?

And, ironically, I followed back the trace I created.

Its so easy for us to walk over each other to get to where we want. But wouldn't it be much easier for us to just let them tag along the journey of success with us?

- Sara Omar

Shakespeare, brownies and warm milk is my kind of cocktail.

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A Lesson I love

This does not happen a lot. When it does, I thank God once more. Growing up in a distressed world, I hope there live people who believe and feel what I do sometimes. A moment to leave all the materialistic interests you have and balm your mind. I think we all yearn for a life like that. One in which we can sit outside our house on the front yard and listen to nature connecting herself with us. One in which we appreciate what we have. Most significantly, one in which we feel fully adequate with what we have and not want more.

That one evening when all that seems important is to watch the sun set up the nearest hill from your house and thank him for a day of persistent, hard work. I believe a part in all of us yearn for such moments. The times where I can blissfully watch the beauty of the world and speak to it. I can apologize to nature for not spending enough time with her and she will always forgive me. A cup of cinnamon tea could always accompany. I think the one reason why I thought this was a necessity was because I sit at the moment beside a pile of books that I am not ready to open and scan.

Right now, I just want to let myself lay out my thoughts on here in order to maybe seek others who are as well desirous of days like these. I will probably regret this later on when I have to give a homework assignment in less than an hour in school. Still, reminiscing to now, my regrets would fade away. That’s what experiencing ‘mind at ease’ feels like I assume.

I hope one day we all can forget about branded bags, luxurious cuisines and expensive dreams. On that day, appetizers would consist of reading a book near the fireplace on a chilly night alongside some delicious, scented candles. Main course would be tranquility with a side dish of colorful, small birds softly singing on an orange-leaved autumn evening. For dessert, it would definitely be lying down on the less than semi-soaked grass and watch the stars be consistent and still just how John Keats likes them. 

I want to be in a life where I can read, write and perform archery for relaxation. And I am almost there with one third of it being ticked off the list. I want to live where I’m satisfied and that may not necessarily be where the people are used to buying expensive coffee every morning before leaving for work. I want my shoulders to descend and forget the stresses and dilemmas of everyday life. Because inside, we can all admit to it. The minor situations come and go, the world is here, waiting to reconnect with the vast race that took control over it. Look out your window and find nature hidden behind the street lights, polluted clouds and ear-popping cars. She will wait for those days when we do. 

We will too.

-Iman Javed

Burger Aficionado. Crazy but Preppy Muggle. 

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Pain, He Who Works Unpredictably

I have lived a life now for not too long but much to understand quite a lot of aspects of pain. Pain is not what we all think it is. Pain does not come from disasters we think will hurt us. Pain is not planned. To be clear, you cannot exactly expect yourself to know beforehand if a certain problematic situation or tragedy will sink you in pain.

People are usually called sensitive towards problems that often are not or might not be something most others react to with severe negativity. I would like to say something I tell my friends and people around me all the time. Everyone has their own meaning to any emotion. Not every lady falls for the charming, young man opposite their cubical at work. Not every man walks around seeking a female to take home for fun. So why must I get blamed for the happenings that bring me into tears and the ones which do not?

Emotion is not something that is necessarily felt with tears or laughs. I might cry if my grandfather talks about his last days but I might not the day he goes upstairs. You might fall in melancholy when your favorite singer gets injured. People will accuse you of being a dramatic, weak human, what not. But just maybe, this singer was the ‘unimportant’ reason you are still alive. The days you were almost more than half way out of your window or the days you possibly would not have gotten out of the bathroom sooner or even the days when suddenly the knife in your kitchen felt symbolic, his or her songs were there for you. The songs which contained words no other could sing better. The songs which made you smile just in one beat or melody, the songs which, word by word, sunk your heart into so many colorful feelings, that is something the accusers and criticizers will never understand.

It is our duty not to fight back the critics but imply, they are probably suffering pain as great as ours. As to defending their own heart, they have a tendency to torment others. Maybe, making others feel a little less satisfied with their life will help in making theirs’ better is what they inwardly think behind the shell of what we call innocence. Pain makes you stronger, the bigger it gets.‘You must not let pain get the better of you’ is a saying which has been heard quite a lot of times but never been clearly listened to.

For all the people suffering for whatever reason they feel, remember, this indifferent world is only testing you for your hardship and strength. Your hardship and strength is what lies deep beneath the feet of Pain that has grown stronger by time. Unleash it by walking over Pain that itself diligently awaits your defeat against him. On top of all, show the critics a good example of what they even are capable and of how they too can omit the anger and despite and indulge in joy once again.

-Iman Javed

Burger Aficionado. Crazy but Preppy Muggle. 

Heartless Angel by Jason Covert

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Smile

A smile is a precarious thing. Thought to be the expression of happiness, it can hide away other things. A shy smile is to let that blue-eyed boy next to you know you like listening to him talk. A broad smile is to let the shy girl know you think she’s lovely. A shared smile is to connect over a joke, a feeling, an understanding. These are the ones known to everyone. But there are those who use smiles in a different way.

A plastic smile, to let your friends know you’re all right, but it hides away your pain and hurt. A wide smile is to assure them you are telling the truth, but you aren’t, are you? That smile that shows no teeth, it hides your anger, doesn’t it? The Cheshire grin heralds the malicious pranks you’ve pulled and the jokes you’ve made. Don’t let these upside-down frowns drag your day down into the dumps. Instead, find the beautiful smiles.

The one covered by both palms in an effort to contain your laughter. The open-mouthed smile that lets out whoops of joy and wonder. The soft smile that follows a kiss from the one you love. The victorious smile, beaming towards others after a comeback with your team. The knowing smile that lights your face when you see friends flirting.

Show the world your pain along with your smiles. There’s no weakness in pain or suffering. The only weakness is in deceit. You are beautiful the way you are and your smile just makes you even more stunning. Smile your favorite smile, for you never know who will fall in love with it.

-Hailey
Regular, undecided teen. Loves the snow others despise. Believer in the saying, "The pen is mightier than the sword"

 

Explosive Smile by Daniel Perkowski

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A Bulb to Brighten

Like many of us try to deny, I am insecure. Maybe it isn’t for the specific flaws another person might have as theirs but just like everyone, I have insecurities. 

It is impossible to perfect yourself if you are not even aware of who you are. Everyone has their own light bulb inside of them. You cannot be someone else. In other words, you cannot steal a replica of another human being’s bulb and try to shine it as bright as they are capable of. That way, one has their own bulb switched off and the stolen one slightly dimmer than the original indicating you will never reach the top being someone you are not. 

Some of us forget how important it is to be ourselves. One affects the entirety of the world by not being themselves. One pretends to be someone for love, reputation, attention. Most of all, one loses who they were fated and meant to be. How you walk, how you talk, how you write will just be ordinary and something you learned from someone else. ‘Someone else’ who was just busy lightening their own bulb. 

You will be but a replica, a dimmer bulb, of someone bright. And as the time flies in the journey of us attempting to become something we are not, we also happen to complete the journey of losing who we were or could be and lastly we unintentionally break the bulb only we could brighten individually. So for now, think about what you have become if it is you or if you have a bulb to fix or a bulb to throw.

-Iman Javed

Burger Aficionado. Crazy but Preppy Muggle.

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This is NOT how it is

When I was growing up, the unspoken philosophy of Egyptian society was “this is how it is.” As an Egyptian living overseas, I was constantly exposed to the sickening caste system and the chasm it created between the rich and the poor. While many Egyptians struggled to make ends meet, others drowned in luxuries like Lexus cars and ski trips to Switzerland. Whenever a naive child, not yet touched by life’s cruelty, asked, “Why?”, the response came as mechanically as if it were programmed: “Because this is how it is.”

Finally, a miracle happened. Yes, you guessed right- the 25th January revolution. The Egyptian citizens, who had till now boasted of a remarkable, record-breaking history of being ignorant and enduring whatever may be the circumstances they were subjected to, erupted in a wild yet civilized rage.

To me, an upper-class thirteen-year-old on vacation in Egypt, the revolution seemed irrelevant, and I tried to steer clear of any discussions or debates about it. I suppose it was not because of carelessness but rather to avoid seeming like I knew nothing about why the demonstrations were happening. Eventually, though, I made a decision that changed my life forever—I decided to go to Tahrir Square, the heart of the Egyptian revolution, not to support demonstrations but to understand what was going on. Although it met with great opposition from everyone I knew, I doggedly pursued the plan, and the story unraveled before my eyes in a way I could never have imagined possible.

Slowly, I started to develop a sense of gratitude towards things that I earlier saw as ‘Basic’ or ‘Normal’. The real concept behind all the community work I did unfolded and a sense of loyalty suddenly sprang up within me. It was like I finally saw the light.

Indeed, my intuitive decision did not fail me even for a second. The blurry, vague image in my mind cleared as I understood who I am, which I believe is the first step towards understanding who I want to be in this world. It was an experience like no other. The one place where you can say whatever you want without being subjected to the prejudice that had till now defined my society.

I found myself standing next to a black woman with a ragged ‘abbaya’ (common Muslim, female dress in Middle East), a young adult dressed up in designer clothes, a barefoot teen who just couldn’t afford shoes, and an old lady wearing the Christian Cross around her neck. A feeling of immense peace and security swept over me as I realized that in this place, when I fall someone or the other will bend down and help me up. Here, you could look past the differences straight into the similarities… One Heart, Two Lungs…We’re all fighting for the same cause. Not a particular political or religious affiliation but simply requesting the basis of humanity. ‘Democracy, Liberty and Social Equality’.

We were not asking for a lot. Nobody was demanding to be moved from rags to riches. We just want to feel that we have an identity, that we’re not puppets in a tyrant’s deceptive political ploy. After this experience, I realized that what was foreign to us was not always bad. In this case, it was a blessing in disguise!

I’m pretty sure many things have changed for the better, and even more haven’t, but at least now, when a little kid asks about the reason behind the mess we’re in, the response won’t be, ‘This is how it is’.

- Adam Ashraf 
New York idolizing, art loving, wannabe author.

The Arab Spring may have become old news for many, but HASH doesn't want to be disadvantaged by an insignificant time-delay. Some of the world's best, most beautiful and timeless literature, stories, art and creativity was born in times of war and uncertainty...then why should today be any different? This piece reminded us of the power of something as seemingly simplistic as the written word in conveying a story, delivering a message, evoking the deepest depths of human consciousness and emotion at a time that shall go down in history as one of the most defining of our era.

So, what's your Spring story? Your experience of war and awakening, conflict, confusion, chaos and rediscovery? Get in touch. Let's share it with the rest of the world.

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Tick-tock

"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once” –Albert Einstein 

Frozen Time by Qiang Huang

Time has endless definitions and meanings, but it has only one use, to measure. Time is seconds, hours, breaths, heartbeats, moon’s phases; you can use any unit for it, but its sole purpose is to organize our lives, to schedule them, and we are forever bound together in an hourglass from where we can’t escape but keep on drowning in the sand until we can’t breathe anymore. Time doesn’t make the world go round, but it helps keep chaos off the world’s face. If it weren’t for time, our history would be a jumble and our present lives even more so. So though time may be freedom diminishing, it is immensely essential.

I’d like to go back in time. Not by a couple of days or years, but centuries, millennia. If time was in my grasp I would travel to and fro from the glittering ball gowns of the Victorian era to the scorching hot deserts of Arabia, and witness every occurrence I ever pondered about and meet every person in whose curious life I was interested in. The person I’d like to meet first and foremost would be, without a doubt, Albert Einstein. A man of peculiar abilities and unusual methods who defied the definition of a scientist, because though a scientist is a person who experiments, he never did an experiment his whole life, but rather proved his theories based on a rather complicating series of calculations. He untapped the potential of the human brain like no average human had ever done before, and his normal yet powerful logic brought great discoveries and the equation E = mc2 (the theory of relativity) which is a beauty in itself. Along with him, I’d like to meet Sir Isaac Newton too. Both these scientists are my chief inspirations. Though I am no resident genius of physics, it is a marvel to find out the natural mechanisms behind the simplest actions. What will be better, than to be an apprentice to these legends, to be a part of their life-changing discoveries?

There is no one event or occurrence that holds the place of the top shelf for me. In fact, there are many incidents that I’d like to encounter, some great, some minor, but important just the same. Many points in history whose mere existence I doubt, and taking the advantage of today’s technology, I’d like to record those miraculous occasions in a camera. If we could change the past, then we could stop the numerous wars which resulted in outrageous amounts of deaths. But how many wars? How many disputes? How many invasions? We’d like to omit the fact that our history has been written with blood, innocent and guilty, but it has. The world map, ever-changing, was implemented through treachery, murder and other appalling sins committed to gain control and power, but no one ever did, though Hitler, Attila the Hun and Alexander the Great are the closest names to this title, and their ways? No cleaner than a chimney sweeper’s brush.

If we did change the past, would our present be any calmer? But many would despute and say that fate and destiny would prevent things from happening any other way than they already did. So, what would be the notion of time machines if they’d bring good to no one? So many secrets to unveil, so many mysteries to solve, I could spend a lifetime voyaging the past and never live the` life entitled to me.

Though sixteen years is nothing to boast about, I’ve learned and matured every step of it. If I had to go back... well I wouldn’t. I don’t want to alter anything about my past, because that would change the person I am today, and every experience I’ve had, whether good or bad, whether accompanied by laughter or tears, was a solid foundation of my personality. If I would, I’d go and relive my childhood, the days of carelessness and carefree attitudes, when we were so intent on growing up we never realized how much we would miss those days, where endless accidents would happen and be shrugged off, and dancing princesses and a cat chasing a mouse were enough for our entertainment. Life with no obligations, no boundaries, no responsibilities. Hakuna Matata.

-Asma Sohail-
Aspiring Neurologist. Book Freak, Cat Lover.
(Also potentially unhinged for wanting to do nothing more with a time machine than meet Albert Einstein. Like really, Asma?
PS- Love from HASH)

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Rejection

It’s almost as though you know it’s about to come, that suffocating second right before it finally knocks on your door. You’re expecting it, you can almost feel the pressure of the universe forcing it down upon you as it draws closer…and you try to push it back, fight it, inhibit it…just slow it down, if that’s all that can be done.

But it’s going to come anyway. So there’s a part of you that’s simultaneously bracing for the impact. Readying airbags, that just ain’t full enough. Trying to cushion the hurt, when you know that nothing can absorb that shock. Not fully. In fact, not at all.

Because no matter what you do, or how hard you try, it will strike you just the same. Just as hard. Just as cruel as it’s supposed to. How can you tell pain’s been muted anyway when it comes back rolling every split second like an indestructible current of thunder?

And when it strikes you. It’s as though a part of you’s been pushed down somewhere. It sinks. A weight falling on your intestines. Pressing against your heart. Pursing your throat. Leaving nothing but a hollowness inside. They say there’s nothingness in a vacuum, then why is there pain?

It comes for many different things. I want to tell you it happened to me for something that hurt so bad, if only I could explain it to you. But beneath your sympathetic gaze and comforting smile, I can tell what you’re truly thinking. At the moment when I least want to read your mind, I can see your thoughts plastered on your forehead.

For all you really want to tell me is, you know what really hurts the most? No, you don’t. You haven’t been there yet, you’re still caught up somewhere else, you just won’t get it. What you’re going through? It’s just a phase and it’ll pass. And you’re letting it break you?

So, I begin wishing I get there. To that point when I’ll finally ‘get it’. When maybe, at long last, it’ll become perfectly valid for me to feel the way it does. When I wouldn’t have to explain it. Or fight it. When I can just let it overwhelm me as it’s supposed to, whether I like it or not. And it needn’t be understood.

You won’t be judged. You won’t be ‘insecure’. You won’t be scoffed at for being ‘weak’…or ‘naïve’. But it’s not them and their faces that hurt. It’s not their laughter, casually cruel or unwittingly innocent. It’s that face inside of you, scorning you for your own vulnerability, that you see in the reflection of their pupils.

So you know you’re hurting in your pain. And punching yourself down inside a little further each passing moment, that strange part of you that knows so much, yet acts like it knows it so little.

How can you blame the world for bringing you down? When you do it to yourself…

Who’s to blame? Who is the cause of this? What is that fault that needs to be fixed? That blotch that needs to be obliterated? That cavity that needs to be filled?

Where can I find it? Fill it. Crush it. Bind it. Fix it. Kill it.

End it.

And let it never come back.

Where?!

- Bushra
Based on a recent conversation, true events, and things that happen to all of us, all the time.

Narcissus by Caravaggio

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the unknown scares me

Pictures are sad.

I see how people love to take pictures of good moments or with their loved ones, and it amazes me, how a picture can capture a certain moment in the past and hold it forever unchanged, untouched.

I see how they think remembering those days would make them happy but for me, it’s just sad, how it’s not here no more.

I look at my pictures and it scares me – no it terrifies me, how fast I grew up, how it all happened so quickly, how the pace of time just speeds up and doesn’t allow us to think thoroughly, how I see pictures of people I used to know and be really close with, and it seems like ages ago, but it seems like yesterday too.

I’m 17.

It struck me yesterday, I’m actually 17. I’m going to Uni next year! University…

That always seemed like a long time in the future before it happens; it’s always been “What do you want to study in Uni when you grow up?”

And I’m on the edge of entering University, so does that mean I grew up? Because I don’t feel like it.

I still need my parents, the thought of losing them frightens the hell out of me and gets me down and frustrates me so bad, how am I going to survive without my parents one day?

I think of a way to make it seem like a nightmare but then it just strikes me, they have to die one day, there’s no way out, it will happen, and I’m not ready, I’m never going to be.

I think about it every night when I go to bed and it just takes the sleep out my eyes, I zone out on it during day and it makes me desperate.

I imagine the moment I get the news that mum and dad are gone, and I can’t seem to think of a way I could react except for closing my eyes and never opening them again.

It makes me want to run to them and hug them and apologize for everything, while I still have the chance, cause I will regret it someday when It’s too late, and it’s going to hurt – hell it’s going to hurt like a wound in the heart, and there’s nothing I could do about it.

I’m 17. Next up is 20.

20 always seemed like a long time ahead, like it’s never coming, 20 is the age of old people, but I’m not old, I don’t feel like I am.

And before you know it you’re married, then it’s followed up by children, and you’re a parent! A parent? Seriously?

I have to work and get money and pay for schools and medicines and have all kinds of responsibilities, because I’m a grown man. But I don’t feel like I am.

And suddenly I’m in my parents’ place and my kids are in mine, and now I’m closer to death than I am to life, but I’m not ready to die, I’m not prepared, I don’t feel like I am.

If I guarantee going to Jannah I wouldn’t mind dying right away, if I can guarantee seeing my parents again I wouldn’t mind dying right away, But I can’t, I don’t know If I’m good enough of a person to deserve this.

I think of all of this every night and day and I needed to write it down and share it, cause when I can read my thoughts and fears and put them into order, I might be able to face them.

But it still scares me, future scares me, death scares me.

In other words,

The unknown scares me.

- Abdelrahman ElGendy

According to Abdelrehman, he is "A Unique human being with different beliefs. I think highly of myself and I have extremely high hopes and self expectations. You might not like my writings but the point is not for you to like them it’s for you to read them." If you think you can handle what he's got to say, find him at: www.weirdwithstyle.wordpress.com

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