Lets Admit, We All Had A Crush On Neil Perry From Dead Poets Society And Cried When He Died.

Let’s admit, we all had a crush on Neil Perry from Dead Poets Society and cried when he died. 

Quicker

Do you sometimes wonder what your life would be like without people?

I often think it would be better.

I'm not talking about being the only human on the planet because that would be boring.

I am talking about solitude so deep and heavy that you don't allow people to come closer, when you live just next to them.

Imagine a life where you do whatever you want whenever you want without justifying yourself to others. When the words you say don't reach your heart, when your eyes show nothing but carelessness so lightly resting on your forehead.

There would be no expectations, no attachments, no liking. So that, you can easily walk away whenever you want.

Imagine a life when you have only yourself as company.

There's no way I can live on this earth without turning my heart into stone.

Please don't let me hide anymore, even though I want it so badly.

You probably call me a lunatic, a contradiction, a paradox.

Living without people would be easier, but the truth is that's not at all what I want. In fact, I want the exact opposite. I crave meaningful connections with people. Not jibber jabber. Words have a meaning. Words have power. Don't just spit them out.

The thing is, most people don't care whom they speak to, they speak only to fill the silence with speaking. It pains me a lot because it almost always means that I was just a random person amongst the crowd.

There's no point in remembering the conversation that we had, no point in getting attached to you, no point in getting attached to the place I wished to call home. The words that you toss so easily, they will float away from us, so that we could forget quicker.

It's because I was hurt so deeply, I'm ashamed to admit it even to myself. How can I say it out loud without acknowledging the fissures in my flesh, without acknowledging the slimy blood covering my hands.

“The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That’s a phrase from Thoreau that we’d invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You see, we’d gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley — the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we’d let poetry work its magic.”

We are sealed in our own little melancholy atmospheres, like planets, and revolving around the sun, our common but distant desire.

-- Jack Kerouac, Jack Kerouac and Allan Ginsberg: The Letters

Personal opinion, but I think life is too short to miss such a lit show like Peaky Blinders. And not make edits of Tommy Shelby’s witty dialogues after that. So I made this.