There's no need for war. We're choking ourselves.

Why do I suddenly feel absolutely useless? Why do I suddenly have this imaginary need to be more useful? Has this psychology always been present, to be fully provoked of late?


Maybe I'm still not used to socialising. I still like moments alone. Then there's no one to demand of me, and no one that needs me to do anything, so I don't have anyone I feel obliged to be useful to.


I just realised I take some thrill in personal emotional pains. Is it the need for self-pity? I'm not too sure.


Lesson of the moth. Read it off someone's blog. Gee, why did it seem so familiar...


Problem is, no matter how much you're willing to get burnt for something you desire, there are always other people who want, or need, you alive and well, people who won't, or can't, let you go. And in thrusting yourself in the flames, you burn them too. And being the stupid emotional human beings we are, we'll have to face that guilt.


So thus be the conundrum: To burn joyfully in your desire, knowing that someone else reaps your punishment; or to suffer nobly, being punished for giving up the one thing you want so someone else can be happier?


佛挡杀佛，神挡杀神


Can we do that? We can't. If a majority of us did, there'd be chaos, and no one is happy.


And yet here's another puzzle: if we don't hold on to dreams, we may not survive.


Us humans have complicated things so much. Maybe the moth teaches another more certain lesson: Civilisation is killing us.


Someone treat me to a movie of Underworld: Evolution. With popcorn. I need something mindless. And I need an excuse for it.