Why do we complain? That's my question. Is it because we are not satisfied or because we just can. Such confusion. However, when we complain does it satisfy something or does it relieve us from the pain in our daily lives? I've noticed for the past few days that I'm complaining of things here and there, for reasons I don't know. I think it does relieve my pains and annoyances that life puts me through. Throughout my eighteen years of life I've seen from youngsters to old people complain, complaints that can both be resolved and sometimes cannot. Also, I've seen that complaints are really meaningful and sometimes their just worthless.
So I looked up Paramore in the dictionary, and found out that the actual word is paramour, and it means a lover. I just found this interesting.
I believe I'm crazy. I think I am, I can't prove it, but my mind is just going coco.
Here's a post just to be posted.
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