Die Another Day

Dear everyone,

I recently had a brush with death. Not personal but a stranger. What relivence does this have to me? Well it made me realise that life is too short. But too short for what? To hold grudges, to be afraid, to not be happy? Probably all those things but the legacy we leave behind us. It's all about how far we've come. From the clump of cells to the decaying body in the coffin. Have we filled with our lives with meaning and purpose, or have we wasted it away on life.

But we only get meaning and purpose from experiencing life, it's how we learn, how we become happy or sad. But we only learn as much as our the results of our choices allow. So the big decision I face now is do I give up eternal happiness in heaven for fleeting happiness on Earth?

Answer, yes I would. Because what's the point of eternal happiness, we'd learn nothing and expereience nothing except for that of which we all ready know because we know it's what makes us happy. So to give it all up for just a simple moment in life to try something new and experience the thrill of moment, I think, is well worth it.

Just think about it.

Rather now than never.

Mr. Ryan

How To Save A Life

Dear everyone,

At what length would I go to save a life? But more importantly would I risk mine to save an other's. I have so many dreams and hopes that I want to come true, I actually think I'd put myself before others. What is wrong with me? After much debate in my head I realised, in this world there is nothing wrong with me and that my decision to value my life over an other's is perfectly normal. Everyone in our society today is too consumed with their image and own lives that general curiosity is no where to be seen. Gone are the days of chivalry and good manners. Now you'll be lucky to get a grunt from the check out chick at Wall-Mart.

But now I'm side tracking. It all started with the renewal of my drivers licence and the survey asked me if I wanted to be an organ donor. My initial instinct was to say 'yes', but that was only based on my obsession for Grey's Anatomy re-runs. I didn't really get what it was asking me. Did I want to know if I would give my organs out my functioning body, my brain dead body or was it testing my humanity. All of this was running through my head and causing me to sweat in the RTA. I had a mental blank. I'd never done it before, but it always seems like the right thing to do (based on the teary endings of Grey's). But it was my body, I worked hard to have this developing abs and V-Shape, to not smoke and drink in moderate doses. I took care of it, why should I give it up. Now my hyperventilating was causing quite a scene at the questionnaire counter.

But then looking into the eyes of the worker behind the glass sheeting with heavily applied eye make-up it became clear. I would become an organ donor, not only because Doctor Bailey hates ti when you aren't but because my dreams and hard works dies with me and my body is an empty vessel. I can only hope if anyone does get my organs is that some of my humour and ambition carries through with them to make you as strange as me, because I'd have it no other way.

Rather now than never.

Mr. Ryan

Too Nice

Dear everyone,

I'm way too nice. I have this cold hard, bitchy exterior which I wear well and for too long. People know not to come near me when I'm pissed and if you’re not in good graces with me, to keep your distance. Not my best characteristic but it helps to have that shield when you’re hurting and over think everything.

But I hate pain. I cringe like a little girl at blood and gore on screen and got teary whilst watching the video clip for 'I Was Only Nineteen'. Right now I feel like a brainwashed soldier that killed the villagers; children and all. Deep down I know it's wrong but from what we're told, they apparently deserve it. In my scenario I think my villager does. For too long have I protected them, when all along they were the enemy. I hate to think this because then I have no allies. But do I turn them in as an enemy villager or keep going with life because I know once the war is over; they might be an ally again.

I like to think I have the answers, but I'm so unsure as what to do right now that I feel guilty. I may be talking myself up as being 'too nice'. But at least I know who to be nice to and who not to, I think.

Sometimes I just think life is too hard. But the lump on my head has gone down and I’m dealing with things pretty well I'm glad to report.

Rather now than never.

Mr. Ryan

Unthinkable Is True

Dear everyone,

Lately I've been asking a lot of 'what if' questions and the last couple of posts have been way to big and rantiful. The main reason for this sudden realization of this to occur to me is because of all the crazy answers I came up with for my 'what if' questions, the worst one came true.

On Monday the 26th of April 2010, at approximately 8:00pm EST the worst possible information made it way to my computer screen. You have to be 18 years older with your country's highest level of public education certificate. So for those unfortunate souls in the wonderful land of Aus, that means I must endure anther 2 grueling years of life here. I love Australia and all and it will always be home for me but when you wake up in a puddle of your tears nearly every night and only stop yourself from banging your heard into the metal leg of your desk for the next season of 'The Amazing Race', it clicks that something is wrong.

So that is why I am resigning from flying high for a couple of days or weeks to get things sorted and for the newly founded lump on the side of my head (curiosity of my desk) goes down.

Thank you all and stay tuned in for the next installment of The Boy With Balloons, who will hopefully be flying higher than ever.

Rather now than never.

Mr. Ryan

Any Other World

Dear Everyone,

ID, short for 'identification'. It's a cheap little card that society uses to tell other who we are and that we are you we say we are. But who are we really? When do we start as we? From birth? A traumatic experience? Or what a piece of plastic says? Someone once told that every 7 years a person changes completely. Of course my friend took this a little too seriously on his 14th birthday he changed everything about him. Likes, dislikes, look, style and attempted to change his handwriting, even his friends.

But how can we be sure that all we love, like, dislike is what truly represents us, are we just empty beings that is filled with media, memories and the commercialized world of 'feelings'. I hope so, because I don't know what we would be without it. Before I came to this realisation I went through my memory bank to what changed me, the times I vowed to never be bad for my parents, to get good grades and change. The one memory with most hits in my mental search engine was when I was 11 years old and I was taken from my friends and normal life and shoved into another person’s life. I was told to change who I was to fit in, to be accepted and to be identified as normal by the people I wanted to be accepted most by, my parents.

I tried so hard to, to please them and others. Soon the theory of the 7 years came true. I was a cold bitter 13 year old. Of course this was pinned to puberty and as if that's not hard enough. But it wasn't all the physical, mental and emotional changes that made this so vivid in my mind, it was the fact that I felt I lost myself in this world and with myself went my innocence. Gone forever into the black hole of time. I haven't seen it since but I see it in others, hiding around the corner in the good deeds of those I watch.

Ever since I was little, when Innocence and I were good friend all I wanted was a best friend, we'd take adventure trips on the weekend, sneak over to each other's house when we needed to talk and tell each other everything. But as I lost contact with Innocence, it became more apparent that a person like was hard to find. They're probably out there somewhere but I can’t see them because what I want isn't what I want. I still need the wants of that happy 11 year old but I'm confused with the world that I tell myself I don't want that because then all the self therapy i put myself through would be wasted.

But I'm still looking for that person.

If you’re out there and see this message me, I'll be in any other world.

Rather now than forever.

Mr. Ryan

Shadow of The Day

Dear Everyone,

I really hate slums, not the bad suburb slums but I suppose you call them ruts, slumps, or a bad day. But the day God chose to set aside as the one where I did nothing productive despite the mountain of unfinished work I had to do. I call her a bitch, but she's probably better known as Fate. Re-reading Macbeth with his battle of Fate vs. Freewill made me realize that thing happen for a reason, not to piss me off, not to make other suffer but for the development of ourselves. Everyone knows that our time no this Earth is only s shadow on the light of time. That we're gone in a second without second thought and all that we lived for is forgotten, like the weekly break between 'Desperate Housewives’. Only to be revisited through YouTube or the ceremonial reminders at the start of each episode.

I yearn, I pine, I perish through my life, enduring heart ache, loneliness and my increasing fear of balloons, (ironic I know, but think of it like Batman), all but to be a permanent shadow on this world. To be remembered, but legacies aside we are nothing without the memories and experiences we had to shape us to what we are today.
I search for happiness but I only remember how it felt to be let down, to be hurt. How come? That and what's it like to die are the 2 questions I want answered. But until then I scar myself with the daily reminder to turn all that pain & suffering into motivation, to push me for better and stronger. And hopefully one day big to cast a shadow, but not over anyone I hope.

Rather now than forever.

Mr. Ryan

Broken Records and Pillow.

Dear Everyone,

Random post here but I'm really depressed again.
When I first started this blog is was a meant to be a way for me to express my feelings of loneliness and depression of being a teenager. I dreamt of writing beautiful passages filled with metaphors and deep meaning. But in my natural personality, I stall if I'm not motivated. And that's what I was lacking motivation, to get out of bed in the morning, to pick up a pen or turn on my computer. Not even motivated enough to talk to people, anyone; even if it was just small talk. I didn't the core power to pull myself to open mouth and blurt out anything.

I thought I was guarded. A locked book. No one would no anything about me. But once I made this realisation I was blind to the fact that I wouldn't shut up. I would scare people away because I talked too much. I always prided myself by being the mysterious guy. But yet a stranger on the street could write my biography for me. I was that desperate for a connection. Human or not. The reason I say that is because I soon found myself talking to a pillow. I know it's a perfectly sane thing to do as I see my lonely Sims do it all the time. But I thought I would never be the one doing it.

If it interests you, I'll tell you the names I gave my pillow (and just so you know, nothing sexually happened between me and the pillow's characters. EVER)

Introducing:

• Cameron: he was the perfect son; sporty, charming and funny. He was everything I ever wanted to be for anyone.
• Sophie-Anne: She was my best friend. French, dark chocolate hair and eyes and had an appreciation of the golden age of Hollywood. I could tell her anything.
• Michelangelo: he was a Spanish med student, who helped me redecorate my room with renovated vintage furniture in bright colours that made me somewhat happy.
• Shane: He was the older father figure I dreamed of. He convinced me to try out for the school sports and helped me with my crushes.
• Scott: he was like a man's gay best friend. Always giving advice and there for comical relief. But apart from that, useless.
• Dakota: she was the soon to be famous actress, I escaped to the beach with (I didn't literally take the pillow to the beach). And we would laugh at the people watching us throughout the day.
• Joshua: the inspiration you look for in books, poems, art and music.
• Shay: the guy you can’t believe is your friend because you’re so different.
• Chase: the one you were looking for along.

And there are the only people who know me truly. But right now I feel like everyone knows me and it's horrible. It's a funny thing isn’t it, what we want, we work for. When we get, we don't want it. We're never happy and that's what the world turns on. People's unhappiness.

Now exactly at this point of writing this I realised something. If I claimed to have no motivation, how did I have enough to get off my arse and not shut up? Well I would like to say the answer is simply but honestly.... I can’t think of anything. The best I can come up with is that I suppose I had enough self respect to do something about it. I knew what I wanted and I went for it.

And letting everyone know about I guess.....

Rather now than forever.

Mr. Ryan