Warning

So imagine life as an art book. And in this book we all have our personal pages. We can do whatever we want with our page; write, draw, paint etc etc.. so this book is always a work in progress, probably never-ending, who knows?

Imagine growing old and looking at other peoples pages. Some wonderfully crafted, others messed up, one is a work in progress and the other is finished. And then you look at yours...and you see nothing but blackness. Nothing to show. What the hell did you do with your life? And then you start to fade slowly...but its too late to make a change.

What if someone owned that art book and saw your page and ripped you straight out? The owner could be some form of alien species, God or some kind of powerful entity I don't know but either way you've achieved nothing.

You were given this talent called 'living' yet you've already accepted death. Why? Well...we all have our excuses.

This concept came up during a time I let something get to me. A huge obstacle I had to face and overcome. I let it get to me before, but time has passed and I've learned and have gotten stronger.

But during that time I was facing depression (emo HAHA) and ultimate laziness. When I started realizing what I was doing to myself, the fear of messing up my life because of something stupid got to me.

Life is real, as long as your alive you'll have to face it. Problems are so little compared to life itself and with what we can achieve with it.

Laziness, excuses and stupidity will be the death of us.