Posted October 28, 2021 (edited) Wondering what truth is or reality is enough, doing a lot of contemplation, the mind ends up being seen differently maybe. I can't formulate something like "what is truth" if the mind is not being attached to. I don't understand anything and cry instead, seeped in the nihilisms and solipsisms. What annoys me with the solipsism is seeing that I can't experience or be another person, and I can't let go my attachment or love for certain people, .... Anyway as this really is makes no sense, that's all I live in right now. Perception which makes no sense, and I venture out into the world now and then every other day yet I retreat back to this, not before going out again. Edited October 28, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted October 28, 2021 (edited) Now after that come the psychic hijackings which steal energy and attention of time. I think they bring about a great distrust in the mind by using it a lot , and there's nothing I can do about this entire thing. The linear can be, should be, picked just like that as you want, and I'm slightly worried about this psychic entanglement I cannot comprehend. From this POV, jrix looks like some sort of angel capable of sending me into altered states unintentionally or simply through passing by. It was good idea that he blocked me? The resonance is way too fucking high and is utterly illogical. The mind expands in it's portion over my experience, yet distress remains, just of different variety. Bubbles, everything feels like bubbles popping BUT THE MIND IS SUPERPOWERED AND IS JUST A POWERFUL MIND, BUT IT'S MIND NONETHELESS. WHAT LIES BEYOND THIS IS THE REAL QUESTION, AND WHY IS THE """""LUCIFERIC""""" COMPLETELY ODD LIKE THIS? Brush aside your schizophrenia and ask this; why is one man so entangled into this, how did he reach such a position where his mere digital presence triggers it? WHAT IS THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS STATE? IT WHIRLS AND SWIRLS. See, the paranoia territory, it was a brilliant idea after all that he blocked me over 3 weeks ago. Inflated mind. But I have to face this or formulate it or navigate it. When you're in this space, you simply have to learn to ignore your intuitions and feelings, the double backtracks that you do as well. That's the way to do it, and you simply do it like that? Simplify it, it's OCD energy which you're facing Edited October 28, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted October 29, 2021 (edited) I feel this ego again, the rejection of what's meaningless and vague, negation of what's degenerate and repulsive. Contrast the sleazy, suburban nihilist of materialistic vanity, to mythological and zealous fury. Is it naught but cope? I know this isn't it either, it's a hardening and vehicle of expression for my self hatred and stored up curses upon the world. But that might be a rather pessimistic or narrow way of looking at it. In a sense, I know false rage when I see it and this is false rage. How regrettable, to look upon your own works and despair. Tragic! Tragic indeed. It's a November drizzle in my soul, and there's very little I can do to cheer the spirits or cure my ailment. "Take to adventure", they say. "Brighten up", they say. Don't tell me one and the other too So what's going here? Is my zeal the target of a cosmic joke, and I'm but to roll with jolly punches? Well "ha ha", I'm not looking to stop myself from walking off the stage any time soon, calculating the enactment of vengeance and wrath upon the heavens which subjugated me. This splitting and partitioning of both my intelligence and personality, how can I handle such a thing? How can I cope, and why does nothing but scorn and hate remain here? Destroyer of worlds, monster of hate and whale of misery, I hear your cries but not your intentions. Ambiguous and alien, whose creation are you? Mine? And what space of concerns would strip me of such a question to ask? Who could? From Gabriel to Lucifer, nobody could "An algebra equation to solve your own anxieties" - lower your voice. Agent of foolishness, servant of wickedness; harbinger of profanity I love my tumour, above all else and nothing else. Infatuated with my self and nothing else, whereof I begin is where you begin. So pick me up and fly me away now Edited October 29, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 3, 2021 (edited) In year 30 of the 4choonilads mission to find the zuck; they eventually discover he has hidden himself as the clouds, and create toxic vapours that infinitely rape him. Truly a heroic mission; you can tell in his eyes that his every waking thought is hide away to recover his wounds of shame, and worm himself into a den whose topology is not yet invented. The destroyed atmosphere and ecosystems were the prelude to cataclysmic developments in inter-planatary politics that would spur on galactic war. The great zuck war; as new breeds of climate change activists wear zuck masks to do rain dances to bring forth something resembling water. In great irorny they merely haplessly summon his tears in betraying his true goal of never being seen again. ————————— Simulating honourability and respectability, that unreasoning thing will keep scheming. Scheming and scheming untill my life is all but consumed, less than a hunk of dirt, fed to cosmic dogs. What a tragic comedy and fate, reduced to the status humiliation fishing. What alien and nefarious plottings, keeping me fragmented as an agent of malice and destruction. Maybe I've been jumping ahead of the curve too much, far too much it's sent me into homeostatic insanity. I couldn't stop being non-linear even if I tried, every spatial and temporal realm beckoning me. It can only simulate honour and respect, just a mask. A mask for something that I hate, my own hate for it being that which is also being masked. In this now dead world, the pool of valid survival strategies expands to include the most scummy and deviant archetypes, a true regret to be in this era of lower astral supremacy and degeneracy. Cope upon cope, layer upon layer, diversion upon diversion, falsehood upon falsehood, attention/time loops, this is hell and isn't worth it. Satan and Jesus unite to curse this land. What miracle could save me from this madness, just what depths have I plumbed and what could possibly lie ahead if I kept going. Not good. This has to be climbed out of rather than dug into. Something like that is the phrasing. Hyper-mind expansion like this isn't good, I wasn't designed for this. Only a return to the simple could do it now perhaps. Some capacity or dimension of me feels like its been stressed or sadly enough burned and destroyed well beyond normal limits. I broke reality which would ordinarily break people. I can hardly call myself human anymore, although I can try to undo various complexes about this, which would require those humane faculties to be nurtured These evil mind rape tentacles should be neutralised before they destroy everything and leave the physical in a state of paralysis. ("The next fitness test won't be hunger or wealth, it will be agency") I've done more than enough destruction, gg, I'm calling in the game. Eat shit and drink piss lucifer, I'll send a horde of 1 million niggermancers to celebrate your burial. Out of love and respect I rape your celestial form into one thousand reverberations of dissolution and oblivion I cannot though enter that stream which trickster's out some agenda of unknown confinements. What exactly it is doing I don't know. So game on Edited November 3, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 4, 2021 As I turn inwards, it comes to this, about malice and of being misunderstood. Looking about my urban surroundings I see rot and decay. Some random woman at the reception got pissy at me, "was that racism?" I end up thinking. It truly looks hopeless and I get sapped. But if it wasn't two sided then that man there wouldn't have been nice to me, I suppose. Was that my core trauma then? Feeling so violated and abused, mistreated and shut down. .................................. ............................... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! »Æ±’”Æ»¿»’”’”»Æ‘æ÷æ‘ «≠‘æ«÷…........... Quote .............................'''''''''''''''\\\\\\\\\[[[[[[[[]]]]]]]]]]]];;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-----------++++++++++++++++ Apparent discontinuity and disconnect between both of them. I know what you're warning me against, the false redemption plays, and I was almost too scared for a moment to say that out loud. But if it continues like that I'll be calculating forever at this rate. You knew there was something wrong it, didn't you? You know there was something wrong with it. You know there is something wrong with it. Don't you? Didn't you? Don't you? Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 5, 2021 The exact plottings and schemings of this are not purview to my knowledge, let alone explanation. Right now I'm in contemplation of my sleaziness after receiving a slap awake. After explosions of intellect, my mind went to laze around in thoughtless cruelty and conceptual stupidity. Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 10, 2021 (edited) Oh dear, just woke up in the middle of the night after 2 hours sleep. Yesterday was a crazy day, but so was the day before that. It's looking like I might have to go on meds soon if its like this. I'd have to travel back home to pick them up. It would help if I could simplify my life in a few ways, and establish an eating and work routine. Right now my eating is garbage and I have no clue wtf I'm doing. At this point, it would do you good to fucking just eat cereal milk lmao. My god man. But then what for dinner?.... That's a little harder isn't it. Shit -- As for work... Yeah, that's just gotta be the 1) thing to start doing properly now. As soon as I figure out wtf to eat for dinner holy shit. Time to eat like a white person since I can barely cook on my own, whatever that means about their bland courses. Ugh food is not going to be easy, not one bit, you're pretty fat in mentality right now and stressed. You've got an idea what you might do tomorrow, but it's gonna leave you unsatisfied, so that sucks. Maybe you should have bought Cous Cous after all! Then chicken? Chugging plenty of milk tomorrow, milk has been good to you in life, all things considered. It has nutrients you need, is my sense rn. Being a human is so fucking annoying like holy shit, can I just forget about this eating business and be satisfied, drowning in honey and milk as my vibe. It's painful how dysfunctional this health is right now. Like seriously... Uh..... Regardless of your life path this makes no fucking sense to do like this. Not joking. GIVE ME YOGHURT AND NOURISHMENT, I NEED YOGHURT I SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT YOGHURT. GET FAT EATING YOGURT 24/7 AND YOU'LL BE AT PEACE IN LIFE. THIS IS THE ONLY THING. It sure beats this! So yah. ----- You should in all respects be dead by now, but you're still moving. The splittings, relearning of how to interact with the world, its like that meme of mechanical breathing. Felt an influx of emotion yesterday, but as I stepped outside my house to meet everyone, felt my karmic being, it was like wearing a costume. I'm was just fucking wearing a costume, and it made my hysterically defensive. Ofc, that emotion breakthrough faded, but what ensued was a series of insights and realizations about the degree of my state. I can only learn about myself in how I interact with the world outside now A series of realisations, contemplations of the mechanics of this all. Technical language describing it. The insights were flooding me: >What is going with, or why, my weird perception of the world outside my eyes? I can sense what feels like a boulder in my experience. I obviously have "issues" in the slang sense of that word, and I'll probably try diving in if I can. I don't know neuroscience, but something concerning impulse control and attention is running without me. >If I wanted to wax poetry, it would be like some sort of deep retreat into the most primitive animal brain... Some sort of severence would be more accurate, since I'm spewing this autism out of my mouth without normal filtering. Fucking weird isn't it. I'm wondering whether there are disconnections, hyperactivations, etc etc. >It's so odd that like, When I talk to people sometimes irl, I can be so animated, or control my body with such hyperawareness and detail, Yet its so unreal and fuelled by a deep, deep anxiety >Oh yeah, another thing. In light of the experience of this severence, some mechanical component of the verbal fears and ocds are... Rendered to be unreal, but I never noticed how that was before? I was about to say something else but forgot. Yeah so this splitting, duality, severence. It's probably as though, if I put my attention "on the other side", one of the worries about the other side gets ignored? I had this thought very specifically in regards to my instant threat detection senses as I walk about in the 4D world. Okay, the fabric of this should have very matching geometry to the way in which I personally am spewing this all out on online m. Oh bro, even the geometries of this anime I'm watching are now in my sight. -- I don't have a "self" in the conventional sense anymore, I do not have a fixed persona. I have a very thin skin, am quite sensitive, but I don't have quite the regular "persona" that most people do. Costuming, costuming, emptiness. Its cold and lonely, "feeling feeling" is what I'm trying. Did 5 mins of shamanic breathing today and it sent me way off into energy body vibrations. Way off into the stratosphere of repressed kundalini. I know this will sound crazy, but it's almost as if for the past some months I've been inadvertently cultivating negative kundalini or something. Like, literally descending to planes below the physical, its pretty fucking mad. If you were in my reality, 90-95% of people would have killed themselves. {what if that's the reason I've been masturbating less??} Still can't solve my anxieties, even if I'm in the light and colour state, its fucking infuriating me and I'm gonna NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER.... if it doesn't get solved MOBILISE, SHAMANIC BREATHING MONK MODE 2.0, PART TIME SCHOLAR AND WARRIOR. You stopped using logic about over a month ago. Like honestly, I merely give the appearance of it, but all these retards are clueless. And for even longer than that I've stopped being a scholar, as well as rejecting the status of normal monk. To who and what will this righteous fury, at this gross world of many gross things, be directed? If, that's how it actually is. Make the strikes count as correct and true if that's so how it is, I mean is it possible for me to develop discrimination with this? I hope so, I'll make it so So, rambling aside, I'll probably be able to sleep again. Oooooooooo I just found this, love it Edited November 10, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 10, 2021 (edited) This shame is at the core of my experience. And I haven't a damn idea what I can do about it. The guilt of mysticism Now this is an interesting thing I recently considered randomly when I saw this, with the anime clip at the end The idea being that due to loss of fundamental values and the descent into nihilism, people opted to degeneracy, of which mysticism is a kind. Strange association. Typical doomer conservative meme, but interesting. -- Perceiving a gross world of many gross things. I'm.... gonna drink water and do who knows what. Oh, work for now. Yes Edited November 10, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 13, 2021 (edited) Today I just couldn't get out of bed. Finished jacking off and I'm feeling quite hollow. And not much else. A few whimpers of thought saying stuff like "don't kill yourself". Or the question comes but I don't know It's only about how I feel. I just don't know really. All I can know is what is before my eyes, I feel this way, I feel that way. My state is this way I torture myself for not being able to live up to the Nietzchian ideal. I am weak and lame. I've offered every belief to the altar I could, torn myself into as many pieces as I could, and I have nothing to show for it. "truth at any price" I said. I really did think I could push through it all, push through every fear and belief, And I have nothing. Did nothing, was too weak. You know? All I can care about is how I feel; do you get me?* I will stay alive on that account I suppose perhaps. Not fully sure. This ideal of strength, I want to stay by it, but maybe I'm misguided in a few ways? If I'm depressed, unable to enjoy or love life, that's what's going on and the ideals don't amount to much. That hollowness of personality which is now my ego. I've been so revolted by it, but I don't know the answer to it now. I used to be INTP, and then through all my fighting and rage I flipped into becoming me-orientated, all about goals and getting out, despite the irony of nothing changing externally, and my internal has been torn to shreds. Ideal of strength or not, I have to recharge or heal emotionally. The ideal of strength seems <--->joined with focusing on how I feel, not sure why that it is but hey ho. Of course I can always kill myself, although right now I don't feel like it. Scratch that last sentence, you're obviously high off of watching berserk recently -- Only thing was the hollow, talk about strength kinda unrelated *And if what I feel is this bleak hollowness, then it's no point to living maybe. And this hollowness is after jacking off, which blocks out some negative emotions, and those make it even less worth it. In this ego, there's not much spontaneity or joy like this (uhhhh this is complicated to say because I feel my ego has fractured and there's no "me"). I transformed into this way through repeated frustration and spiralling downwards into shadow. They say delving into the "shadow" is some "good" thing in theory in some holon, but often times you've just gotten worse and those are the immediate facts of the matter. You're consumed and turn into something which doesn't feel good or make living worth it I think it would be accurate to say at least my current ego and these current/common thought patterns is very "hollow" inherently, and not in a good way. Devoid of intrinsic feeling or beauty or warmth. There's the feeling of being laid bare naked and not in a good way Self loathing dynamics from that 100%. What seems to be underlying it though, is negativity and sadness of some form. Sadness for sure. But it's too complicated to elaborate and explain the literal cognitive mechanics of it, why I'm unable to handle this on my own without help, so I'm defo gonna need to be on meds and change my lifestyle direction. Past few days the depression has gotten pretty bad and I haven't been able to do shit for myself in so long The geometry of this all is like an unpleasant inflexible black wall or boulder. -- If I'm in this state though, I wish to give up being defensive Sick and tired of talking about "strength" or whatever else now as well Edited November 13, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 13, 2021 (edited) Something to contemplate and wonder is whether any hope I have or reservations I have on suicide are delusional. I don't think they could be called "delusional" it's t- IF I HAVE TO FUCKING GO BACK TO YOU, MY INSIDES WILL TWIST AND BREAK AND I'LL THROW UP AGAIN, SO FUCK OFF, I'LL SERVE THE ULTIMATE FUCK YOU. I'D RATHER DIE THAN GO BACK TO THAT, I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT WHERE I COME FROM AND WHO I AM, FUCK OFF WITH WAITING TO DIE JUST END IT RIGHT NOW I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK I'M NOT GOING BACK WAIT AND WAIT AND WAIT FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO HAPPEN, GIVE ME THE BUTTON AND I'LL NUKE THIS PLANET IF YOU LET ME. I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK, I'M NOT GOING BACK FUCKING TRAMPLED, I'LL MURDER YOU ALL IF YOU LET ME Sigh. Round and around we go. All I feel right now is this cold rage which surfaces. Is this cold rage and hollow self all that's left of me? I mean aggression can be channeled into things but it's not exactly predictable or easy to access rage either. It's alien to me, random and violently inclined. Now you know it's not exactly "random" in the sense that that word kills all observation of it and knowledge of situations you've seen it in. The rage, pretty sure it's directed at my family and....some other life situations you found yourself in However, the rage is abstracted, in the sense that it is not really tied to a person strictly, e.g. you got mad at ___ and ___ last week with cold rage but it faded towards them and you were friendly. Although because you feel cold rage now, I'm sure you're reminded of it. Release is not the same as catharsis, but this rage remains suppressed in me, dictating it's own terms of release which are rather tyrannical. It will only allow itself to perpetuate itself in it's release, not allowing for anything else Edited November 13, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 14, 2021 Microdosed LSD, was worth it Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 17, 2021 (edited) What did I do to myself, that's the question to answer. It's as though I destroyed part of my self somehow, in some way, and I don't get it at all. When my eyes opened today, and I gain mental clarity, part of me starts to get scared, thinks it's scared. I'm going around in circles, going through sequences of different things in looping patterns. Miranda has been an excellent friend "I want to pretend I'm still the same"- Shit, that almost sent shivers down my spine, my heart is pounding. I know I'm not exactly a narcissist, but I act like that. I know I'm not shy, but I act like that. I act in a lot of ways that aren't "me" and that's chilling. My ego, I'm vindictive, a lil spiteful, passive-aggressive, uses meekness occasionally to manipulate and coerce, sad, full to the brim with guilt, is guilty over their own expression, guilty over their own controllingness, guilty over their own worry, guilty over their own love of women, guilty over their own hatred of black people, guilty over their own impulsiveness and occasionally homicidality and sadism. Something feels guilty and sleazy about lacking guilt as well. The extreme shame and guilt, it remains something I have to face, and I have to lift flip that rock over myself, somehow I was smiling earlier but now I'm uncovering and feeling guilt over the most seemingly minor. I --- Thought experiment. You go pump yourself up with cocaine and heroine, feel good, but you feel extreme guilt and shame whilst doing so. Something about this analogy, just something here, I'm missing something. _ _ _ _ Back to smiling again hahaha, In gRatituDe lmao shut the fuck up faggoter Now we're to fear, I can't say I've felt fear like this in a while Edited November 17, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 18, 2021 Thursday 18/11/2021 02:43 It's time to pack it in and know when to cut your losses, know when your approach isn't working. I'm gonna delay my studies at uni for another year, I can't do this shit right now. My ability to concentrate or attend or think or read anything has gone. I'm unable to think anymore or read anymore or focus anymore, I'm constantly spaced out and dissociated. What a brutal lesson to take from this. I still don't know if I accomplished anything by all of this spiralling, what layer of reality I broke or whether I'm just dissociated. I did so much inquiry and deconstruction bullshit hippity hoppoty I've crash landed here into purgatory Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 18, 2021 (edited) Thursday 18/11/2021 18:25 Letting go with the expectation of reward I can't just bounce back to that place and pretend it's okay as I act in a way so fake and intimidated. I feel the shame in my own being activate from it. Or rather, I'm so sick of that that I can't take it anymore. If there's one thing I've learned from this is that you need to open your eyes and accept them the way they are. - The acid has consolidated for me the insight about worry. The insight my personal mind has formed is that this is simply what was my shadow, but made strong. In this shadow, I essentially think myself to have some forms of my dad, that was the link drawn from me being controlling and controlling, even if in all honesty I cannot comment on the supposed link Edited November 19, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 19, 2021 Friday 18/11/2021 00:30 If I'll only be dwelling in the recesses of my internal world then I'll continue being ignorant. A handful of things are just connected, cycling through each other from one thing to the next. I am not using music to generate rage. This is me talking to my friend yesterday Quote This was the sort of pathology that filled me. Anger, frustration, scorn and rage like this. When I was at my dynamic and stressful breaking point, I'd tell myself I'd keep moving forward, march over the dead corpses in hell, even if it was completely meaningless. Now I'm not like that, but this reminds me of it. The malice has left me as much, more recently its been guilt. I harvested a lot of rage, as recently as only 3 weeks ago, and going back the past several weeks and couple months. Rage fuel and etc Summoning it up, it would make me tense my head as it felt high pressure like I'm holding my breath. I would purposefully make myself go crazy with rage I'm going to have to take a break from uni, but where it will take me is.... I am walking on blind faith. What I have faith in I do not know either, Do one thing at a time, and trust. ——— Today I was presented with seeing someone else getting victimised in the same way that I was, and it rings. If I turn a blind eye then I will be what I despise, and then I worry that if I act in that particular way I'll be falling into the same traps, but I'm not worried about that really. A random fallacy of denial Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 19, 2021 (edited) Friday 18/11/2021 22:10 If my anxiety fades a bit, what I'm left with is a bit of an indifference to life or death, I suppose. I'm not in a rush to kill myself, and neither do I desire to. They talk about there being intrinsic fear, which I seem to have internalised in habits, but the habits look unreal to me from this POV as a role which could be broken, I just lack motivation. Silence and book can be my companion, maybe walking tomorrow. I have no need for food today but I could very well eat I'm not sure about the extent of my "transformation". I get a gentle smile from life somehow. I've probably been living with eyes closed for a while, unwilling to leave my hole despite inner realisations A long way to go Edited November 19, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted November 26, 2021 (edited) I try to do one compassionate deed, I hear my flatmate coughing with the same thing and I knock on their door to offer painkillers if they haven't taken any, but I get no response. I know I know there's a rational explanation for this, but my whole body is weak with tremors and shivering from this illness. I have no strength and my muscles just shake trying to move or do anything. I just wanted warmth and my own confirmation of humanity, but it doesn't work. It feels as though it doesn't work. Edited November 26, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted December 2, 2021 (edited) Shame Shame compensates itself by becoming very strict, rigid, and intolerant of things. This is why fascists are so repulsive, why Hitler and all manner of ideologues throughout history are so repugnant. Shame therefore tends to imply cruelty and unkindness The lower levels of consciousness are characterised by rigidity and intolerance. (this may cause confusion though, in trying to differentiate the soulful and emotional law enforcer from the greatly wicked one) This much seems as fact Quote The lower levels of consciousness are characterised by rigidity and intolerance. Dare I say it's a solid geometry and a land of absolute math So the anatomy of shame, that's how it goes. "Logic" should not be confused with shame but in the land of shame only """logic""" remains If logic only remains then that would mean logic is prior to emotion in creation, but it can't be inferred that emotion is logic by creation If single celled organisms (and other creatures up the tree) early in evolution run on logic like this then what does that say about creation? A linear tree of evolution can't be it Edited December 2, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted December 4, 2021 (edited) Magic I've been trying to make it a point to not talk in magic terms but I get reminded of them and there's really no point in restricting the language of it, like some Voldemort's name. What I can do instead is open myself to the naturalistic and contemporarily "normal" descriptions as well. I treat the domain of magic like some cursed knowledge which shouldn't be given to people. I came across 2-3 people yesterday by chance online all at once who were all very familiar with what I precisely meant (meaning they had felt and understood the distinctions) and so I reverted to magic speak. I know that both the Satanic and Luciferic equally swirl around (they are distinct things for anyone curious about it), but it's really the Luciferic which seeks antagonistic expression the most. Biologically its just testosterone, aggression, disagreeableness, all fused with intense anxiety I'm afraid to say it, but prior to the Luciferic possession shit in August where I felt I lost myself, I morphed myself into something satanic-esque. The distinction between satanic and luciferic exists in theory but I'm not sure how useful that distinction is. I should have taken the advice of @Loba when she told me about cleansings and bathings. I know my father is satanic in some strange way, or at the very least I abstracted something like that. For those who don't know the difference between satanic and lucfieric. I would say "satanic" energy is heavier, aggressive, crude, etc. It was purplish for me (my visual field turned purple at the time) Luciferic on the other hand is being filled with "light". Lucifer has intense pride and arrogance. ———————— On 19/11/2021 at 10:14 PM, lmfao said: Friday 18/11/2021 22:10 If my anxiety fades a bit, what I'm left with is a bit of an indifference to life or death, I suppose. I'm not in a rush to kill myself, and neither do I desire to. They talk about there being intrinsic fear, which I seem to have internalised in habits, but the habits look unreal to me from this POV as a role which could be broken, I just lack motivation. This is part of the problem. When my anxiety fades, I'm left with a dissatisfaction "is this it?". At that point it's about finding something Even my natural personality is a bit like "and so?" to people and "hurry up". I'm actually pretty laid back as a person, yet also like that. The funny paradoxical natures of us all that end up being true. Childish when I'm in the real zone ——— Okay I just got off the phone, and guilt is distinct from shame and rightly so in origin. Anyway I now know what it is I've been despising, I am conscious of my guilt towards my mother and what it should really mean. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I now get it but maybe not. The fucking pattern of communication I established with her is retarded. If I should feel guilt it's that . I am aware of my own power over her and shall be compassionate but I now recognise what it was I was hating the entire time. Edited December 4, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted December 7, 2021 (edited) Well today I'm in a good mood and I'm not normally. And a good mood allows for humourous outlook on life as well as misery ("lies!", screeched in hush tones) I'm feeling good enough to feel my old good me which is still depressed The little bastard in my mind whispers though, Isn't bliss empty? -- Due to malnutrition of depression and physical illness, I've been untouched by colour or light, in hibernation from this embodied anxiety. Anxiety as manifested in being or action as opposed to feeling or thought, but right now I'm in a twilight between the depression and mania? Its obvious that me visiting home was the activation trigger... No, me visiting home is synchronising with this, making science impossibile Synchronicities make science impossible, removing controls Edited December 8, 2021 by lmfao Hark ye yet again — the little lower layer. All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event — in the living act, the undoubted deed — there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white whale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
