There is always a method to madness. And when the madness is meticulous, I can’t help but admire its methods.
No matter who we are or where we come from, we have a unique story to tell and it is human nature, an innate need, to tell these stories. We LIVE on stories, we die with stories. Our bodies tell stories, our minds think them, feel them, and charge them with emotion. We are after all, “storytelling animals” as put by Jonathan Gotchall, an American literary scholar (whose books are a wonderful read and you should totally check them out.) And despite this very frank bit of connection, we (meaning the human race, really) have not gained a collective maturity that promotes tolerance. How is it that we cannot accept each others’ stories?
As long as my story is not causing REAL (seriously NOT IMAGINED) harm to another, my story is completely mine and has nothing to do with you. STOP being a selfish jackass, not everything is about you. The world doesn’t revolve around you. You also do not have the right to take away that which you cannot give. Like life.
Piece of advice: eat healthy – it will give you the brain power to actually think and not become puppets to sick ideologies.