I want to write about birds and bees and travel escapades and poetry. Yet every time I am stopped short by human behaviour and I cannot stop marvel at it.
Do people really mean they are fine when they say it.
What kind of person likes sympathy?
Why do people ask how are you, when they don’t really want to know.
Are people really ready for the truth. Is honesty the same that as being truthful?
Why do we get angry when all we really want is some attention?
Do we love ourselves at all? Or do we constantly wait for some one/ thing else to endorse ourselves?
Why is loving so hard. Why is it harder to let some one else love us?
Can we see the hypocrite/ liar in ourselves? Are we okay with it?
Why do we run out of our parents? Then again do we ever?
Do we really treat another human being they way we like being treated.
Why do some people hate animals? Where do they find the arrogance to have such an emotion against an ecologically balanced phenomenon?
Do parents compete with their children?
Are people aware that millions of mouths go without food each day? How can they live with being wasteful?
Do we know that resources are limited and we are like bacteria on a petri dish?
Do you ever ask yourself any of these questions?