As I welcomed the morning dew after a very tiring battle at work, I realized that, in one way or another, beneath every soul living on this planet, is the inevitable paradox we have to live with. Sadly, my two cents, we can't alter its existence.
"You are doomed to make choices. This is life’s greatest paradox."
—Wayne Dyer
I hate it when others call me fat, but I love the luxury of stuffing food in my stomach. I hate it when my mom gives me plethora of errands, but, from time to time, I beg money from her. I hate it when I used to get low grades at school, but I love to waste my night partying with sober people. I hate it when my knowledgeable professors scold me for not coming early, but I love waking up late. I hate it when my dog barks so fucking loud that I want to slaughter him, but l love the fact that he saved my ass just last week. I hate it when my articles turn out to be plain futile, but I love sloppy writing. I hate it when, in just a couple of days, I’m totally broke after receiving my salary, but I love spending my money recklessly.
I hate it when our pavement is flooded with rainwater, but I love throwing shit on the canal (and my neighbors, without a doubt, find this very interesting too). I hate watching crap and/or cliché movies, but I love to see how the ending would be. I hate doing laundries on weekends, but I love switching clothes similar to how a Victoria Secret model does it. I hate government officials who are corrupt and crooked, but I love robbing my own dad’s wallet. I hate seeing lives of famous individuals bereaved for colossus of reasons, but I love overlooking mine – subsequently, I’m become infamous. I hate how Miley Cyrus has been behaving lately, but I love the idea of acting like one. I hate it when people, who just hope the best for me, address my shortcomings, but I love amplifying the mistakes of others. I hate it when folks are being unethical in a given situation, but I love shunning values and humane standards as often as I blink my eyes.
I hate it when my write-ups are grammatically wrong, but I love not doing proofreads before publishing. I hate it when I finish late on a specific deadline, but I love to accomplish assignments at a snail’s pace. I hate it when my friends poke jokes on me, but I really love it when I fuck the ghost out of them. I hate it when my cousins, knowing that I barely sleep because of my nocturnal job, are being too noisy, but I love to strum my guitar and sing my lungs out when, in fact, it’s 12 midnight. I hate how rain always ruins my day, but I love to have its presence when I’m asleep. I hate the reality that gays (must) exist, but I love how they entertain people in various perspectives. I hate hearing global catastrophes, but I love reading memes about them. I hate seeing my goals atrophied or vanished, but I love spending my time on worthless stuff. I hate it when I tend not to finish a great book, but I love to buy new ones when I’m aware that I have a shelf to finish. I hate it when a goddamn cent is not returned to me, but I love to forget paying the dollar I borrowed. I hate it when my parents don’t recognize and accept me for who I am, but I love establishing the barriers for them not to understand me.
I hate it when others, with all the proofs laid, appear to be dumb, but I love misleading myself too. I hate conveying the gist, just like this newly-fabricated one, to others for it’s supposed to be important (of course), but I love people to grasp its meaning without them having to reread the words. I hate the inconvenient truth that death, undoubtedly, will court me one day, but I love killing myself continuously i.e. smoking, drinking, consuming fatty cuisines, etc. I hate how I had paved my personality, but I love the feeling that it presents annoyingly to others. Somehow, I hate how I managed to scribble all of these terms, but I love the fact that I happen to express myself. And that my friend, whether you like/share/bash/ this post or not, is the paradox of life.
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