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Fruity Mind Basket

Until and unless you don't forgive yourself, nobody's forgiveness can redeem you. Your conscience is not bound to anyone else's. So even if you pass judgement or bitchy comments on someone's attitude, it will only affect the person to the extent of which his conscience is guilt ridden. If he's not guilty, anything you express will be as good as unheard, he will be indifferent, possibly even if you're hurting. But if he's guilty, the same words could pierce like daggers, the same words could cause a lot of tears. The idea is to redeem yourself in your own eyes before you seek for forgiveness, because even if forgiveness is granted completely, with a clean heart and it's as true a forgiveness as can be, the guilty person will not believe it, he will not accept it, and although your forgiveness might count for something, and it might help the person in his path to redemption, especially if you mean a lot to them, it will not do the job in it's entirety: he will still seek for absolution, he will still crave validation of that forgiveness, which he will only truly get when he forgives himself. And it's not something easily done at all. You can live your life and pretend other's forgiveness was enough, but you'll still have nightmares, the guilt could follow you till the very end. Never ignore your conscience, never pretend to be anything you're not when you look at yourself in the mirror. Always be true to yourself, your conscience is the strongest thing about you. Your conscience can make or break who you fundamentally are, not to mention is responsible for all of your major psychological changes, which as we know is a constant process, like the slow almost inaudible humming of the sound of silence.
Which leads me to thinking about other inaudible melodies that only our minds conspire when we're in dreamland, and whose reality is actually very questionable. Reality in itself is a very funny, very questionable thing. I feel like I've written a lot about this already, I feel like these thoughts have been puked onto paper countless times, over innumerable endless days long since past, long forgotten snippets of lives unlived, songs unsung, memories unmade, dreams unimagined, slowly, yet surely, unraveling themselves through the passage of time, spread over the rest of my life, waiting shyly in shadows for me to embrace them arms and heart wide open, while I'm completely unaware of the demons they might contain, the buckets of bountiful boobalicious boundless and beyond happiness (because obviously true happiness is boobalicious DUH), they might expose my naked and hopeful eyes to. Because, you know, it's all about what you see ultimately, which again brings me back to the whole reality-is-projection-is-it-really-real spiralling conundrum. Which is such a chewable word. Conundrum conununununununnndrummmmm.
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