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Sunday, June 28, 2015

Substanceless Accomplishment

I don't believe being important in the eyes of others or making some vast change for humankind is actually any kind of genuine accomplishment. What is a person, after-all? A bit of nothing. No. Less than nothing. Completely and utterly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. So what is zero multiplied by a million? A billion? 7 billion? Still zero. We're lying to ourselves. We push up others to heights we feel we will never reach in an attempt to create importance out of nothing. We tell ourselves lies to give meaning to supposed power and talent belonging only to the holy ministry of fame and it's disciples of celebrity. Cognitive dissonance on a massive level. By having a system in place that glorifies the few while devaluing the many, we protect ourselves from harsh, unmerciful truths. The few who made it become more than human. Eternal and god-like. The many console themselves with the idea that they lack the magical prowess of a deity required to elevate to such nirvanic heights. Whilst simultaneously birthing a reason to keep others from striving for the summit of their own ambitions. We can mock and vilify those who dare to dream. And if they fall, gratify ourselves with their ruination. A ruination that appeases the voices of fear within our minds. The ones that say you are never good enough. The ones that persuade you not to try, to stay where it is safe. Despite all the conventions driven into our brains from birth, there really is no point to anything we do. So, look upon Time's incalculable might, and tremble! Then get up, abandon your pointless fears, and waste what little time you have, doing what makes you happy.

I needed that. Every interaction with others is a test in self discipline. I tired of holding my tongue, or answering with a nod or a word. The back-flow of words is building to tempestuous grandeur and if I don't open the sluices I'm going to fucking suffocate in a mire of frustrated silence. I don't care if my opinions are sharp and biting. I need to set the steel-toothed monstrosity loose or suffer it's death-grip myself. I don't care who gets it or who is hurt by it. It needs to roam. I may not know what I'm doing, but at least I don't pretend I do. At least I can look at myself with pride, and face the uncertainty, standing alone, with head held high. Nothing out there can knock me down and I dare them to try. I'll never follow your advice. I could care less for your approval. And I refuse to be tied down by your needs

 It's just I've been feeling the tenebrous tentacles of my life constricting around me more than usual.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


When I started smoking, I started for one simple reason: I wanted to die

For me, my inevitable death was the only comfort I had in life. And with every cigarette I felt one step closer to death. That was a good thing to me. That was the only freedom and peace I could ever look forward to in life of constant fear and misery.

As the years passed by, I always felt I would quit one day, if I lived that long. The age I always focused on as my quitting year was 35. If I was still alive by 35, I would quit because it was taking too long. If they don't kill me by then, they're only making life worse. So that is when I always promised myself I would quit.

Lately I've been thinking about this. I love to sing and I think about how much better I would be if I stopped. I think about how much faster, stronger, and better I would feel if I quit and I start thinking that I might actually do that earlier than planned. It is logical after all. I would feel healthier and better if I quit. I dwell on this more and more. And how stupid it is to smoke. I get almost to the point of deciding to give it up right away when that old question floats back into my thoughts: Do I still want to die?

It's a hard question. I don't really know if I can answer that yet. As incredibly better as life has become, I still feel old pains ringing out from my past. I still have issues and problems that drive me to loneliness and despair. I still can't tell whether I'm actually happy, or that I'm just that good at faking it. In short, I don't know whether I want to die or not. I've been alive too long to feel such comfort from drastic change. I've grown accustomed to this shit life. There are even rare moments where I even fear death.

Now that scares me. The thing that brought me so much comfort now scares me sometimes. What do I have left to look forward to now? Being scared of death makes me not want to live anymore, but not living anymore scares me, so I want to live, but I hate life, so I want to die, but I'm afraid of dying so I want to live, but I'm afraid of living so I want to die...  It's an ouroboros effect.

I hate this ambivalence. It pervades every aspect of my outer and inner life. It chases me in dreams and haunts my every waking moment. I feel as if I've lost all substance. Like I've become amorphous, hollow, invisible. I do not have an opinion one way or the other. I'm constantly torn by indecisiveness. I am simply existing. And at that, just barely. I have no goals. No ambitions. No motivation. All has become gray. Happiness is just a thing. No better or worse than sadness. Hardly even different at all. One flavor is as good as the next. Whether I disappoint or overachieve, I feel no different. I feel nothing, always. I see things and I understand them, but nothing truly moves me. It's all just there. I respond with how I feel I should respond, but without the actual feeling.

Do I still want to die? I don't know.
I'm looking for something, anything to breathe new life into me, but it is hard when you don't really care.

I drift.
I drift away.
I drift away from you.
And it goes unnoticed.
Without a whisper.
No sound at all.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

I'm back. Miss me?

I have a lot I've been meaning to write. Now I know it is probably not a good idea to start with a horrible, hatred-spewing rant, but fuck you. This blog is for me, you're just along for the ride. If you don't like it, then do something else. I don't have the time or energy to pander to an audience I could care less about.

See? Bad.

This piece is about why I am so miserable. I adore myself and all I've done thus far. I'm not the problem here. The problem is much bigger than little ole me.

If you feel trapped and depressed. Maybe unfulfilled and tired. Fusstrated or downright peeved. Maybe this will help.

As of now, society has a sickness and we've been treating the symptoms, not the cause. A society is an organism like any other. So yes it can get sick! Its symptoms are generally seen as trends in mental illness. A doctor of societies can (in theory) diagnose the health of a social system based on its prevalent mental illnesses. But this is America! We have pills for that! Who cares about fixing problems? We just want to feel good, right?

Here is the unfinished piece.

We live in a world where heavy music is bad, light music is good, brown people are bad and white people are good. Where you should feel guilty for being happy, ashamed for being unhappy, and momentary pleasures are the name of the game. Money is life and fame is all that matters. To be religious is to be good, wholesome, but only if that religion is Christianity. A place where, right from birth, you guided toward assimilation. Conformity is rewarded, individuality is loathed. Caring about things and experiencing emotions are equated with lunacy. Negative thoughts and feelings should be suppressed, destroyed, and never shown. Hurting someone's feelings is worse than hurting someone's body. Nudity is more taboo than murder, torture, gore, rape, and violence. No one can be special on their own. To be special, you must first have the acknowledgment from others that you are special. Reading is boring and only for smart people. Smart people who are assholes that think they are better than everyone else and the sole reason to read is to make others feel stupid and shame them for not being readers. A place where beauty equals talent. Where people who are different must live in constant fear of unprovoked attacks. Obedience is rewarded. Ignorance and stupidity reign supreme. Women are little more than sexual objects and secretly desire abuse. Competition obliterates cooperation. Everyone believes they are entitled to everything. Scientific facts are only true if you agree with them. Stretching makes you a spiritual person. Humans are exploitable resources. Things are to be hoarded. We must be remembered. The leading reasons to bring a child into this Sick Sad World are loneliness, and depression from being a failure at life. Food is unhealthy for you. Natural resources are enframed, overfarmed, and overmined. Edible food is thrown away. Empty homes outnumber the homeless. Ads constantly bombard you from every direction. A place where six companies can own everything. Where freedom is only a word used in propaganda. Art is rigorously censured. People are consistently told that they never have enough. Most can't financially afford to be alive. Each of you are easily replaceable and deserve to be treated like slaves. You have no choice. And it is executed so subtly over such a long period of time that most of us don't notice until it is too late (if at all) and accept it as normal.


I also wrote an elegant bit of writing the other day that I plan to edit a bit and post later.
Then I am going to write an advice article on personal happiness you might find intriguing. Maybe it will help you to get closer to actualizing the bliss I feel every time I think of myself, and how sexy and interesting, and smart I am. I really am the greatest.