Posted December 8, 2021 On 10/11/2021 at 4:01 AM, lmfao said: If there was square people. If there were rectangle people. And they show up to the circle market. And circles give squares a 50% discount. But not rectangles. And rectangles try to be squares, to get the discount. --- Run this simulation 100 iterations What is a square? There is no answer; the circles and squares would develop negotiation schemes to determine who the squares are, that is not perfectly defined; for it were perfectly defined, the rectangle merely needs to follow the perceptual codex to offer itself as a square. The squares and circles would call this "common sense" The rectangles would call this "10 volumes of philosophy" 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 9, 2021 (edited) A semblance of normal logical thinking, I have access to for the first time in a WHILE. As I've said multiple times, for some weeks now I've lost the ability to think. So, how could the spiritual be real? It would mostly seem as though things are materially determined, in that e.g. "a donkey couldn't do calculus even if it tried" If I take hallucinogens, the world will at least act as though it remains the same. If I close my eyes, the reality seems to act as though it still exists. That much is obvious -- Oneness and the inability to disprove solipsism doesn't seem like good news at all to me. It means ___ isn't real and love is a lie My oponnents who can step up to me and preach spiritual will be forced to admit the material, for they are bound by the same laws of causality, and are forced to say it is neccesary. If it is the case like this, my parameters of negotiation with the field of reality are extremely limited. I would be forced to agree to your rules, "okay, I'll go eat the right food, exercise, take medication, go to therapy, anti depressants, cleanse my gut, detox my mercury, form healthy connections with people" Or I would say something like "in this nihilistic landscape with parameters, I'll take and do what I can. Use someone this need, and then move onto the next thing". But that's so shit. So nîgger, your rules are retarded, and that's the best I can admit when you restore my sanity. In my cool and cold sanity I could very well kill myself and it would be ""fine"". And again, I'm forced to face the facts of my different states. If I heal and restore a bit from whatever trough of psychosis Im in, I return to this being sane(r), just being depressed. Is my state determining my philosophy? But what difference does that make, for Ive reasoned it to be true of its own sake, taking the logic to its autistic conclusion. I cannot in truth know whether I'm right, but that would just add another nihilistic layer emotionally. So let's zoom out on the comedy of it. I'm either a misanthropic, depressed wannabe sociopath in denial that they're just depressed, or when I get even worse my brain is frayed and can't think, and I'm stuck in weird psychotic territory. -- And again, it circles around to being forced to face the facts of reality and my life. That this hand I have, these are the things I'd have to do to get better and feel better, yet now in this state I can get angry again. The loops But in addition to that are the emotional truths and wounds, and then narratives around that which stop me from entering those Edited December 9, 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 10, 2021 (edited) And be it the white whale agent or the white whale principle I will wre- __ Deep sea water noises haunting the back of my mind -k that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy man, I'd strike the sun if it insulted me. For could the sun do that, then could I do the other; since there is ever a sort of fair play herein, jealousy residing over all creations. God bless I'll recover but the story of breaking the wall will forever haunt me until recontextualise. It gives me chills; as I smile in the world, have fun and enjoy myself, that whale lurks in the back of my mind, beckoning I'm playing by your rules, surrendering control and not forcing. I'll recover, heal, be social, etc, go to the doctors, Edited December 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 December 13, 2021 Zened out. There's no here and there, no change either. I am not feeling great though, I'm at that weird energy crash from running and I masturbated with loneliness. Can I be loving and also strike through the wall and break confines? I feel like shit but there's no paradox to construct with a silent mind. But ofc the state fades its just been a while. It is odd to be in silence 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 16, 2021 Someone who's overcome with fear has nothing to say — it's almost true 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 21, 2021 (edited) "Someone who is feeling fear has nothing to say. So they have nothing to listen to." Wrong, since I find my kicks by being in danger or conflict. Is it boring and shit? Yes but its how it goes here I can't judge for sure, but I'm going to go full skeptic route. Whatever my eyes cant see, that doesn't exist. This video crossed my mind today, https://youtu.be/yAvL9B_Y1Ag And then I thought about how God is essentially anthropomorphised/projected. So if undoing my projection requires looking at the thing doing projecting, why would I continue to project again and believe in that? It's my task therefore to eliminate delusional thinking, such as the thinking I'm possessed by angelic energy. The archetypes obviously exist in the unconscious but they're just that human shit, its all that human shit Let's not get delusional in denial about any of this here though. Yesterday, or day before yesterday, you were depressed and noted how you ran out of that energy. You didn't even have rage anymore, for weeks you haven't. So. You get yourself feeling rage again somehow through music, and you decided to tease some people online, and have some fun conversations, And then that acted as a slight activation for shit, and you're still in that flow, We're looking at mood swings, whatever the medical or psychological description for it is -- Philosophically there's dialogue about whether the external world exists or not. About whether its material or not. There's the psychedelic conundrum, that high states come from chemicals. Synchronicity is the default and ordinary ordering of energy, the standard rather than the exception, and this is shocking for people when they first realise it, Even so. Is it not yet again in the eye of the beholder, the one who sees synchronicity and sees manifestation? But that skeptical thought doesn't land much on what can be seen anyway. I'm inserting thought for the sake of it out of habit, when there's no need. I know what synchronicity is like, I'm just waffling with words out of paranoia and explanation to imaginary persons reading this I'm surrendered, and waiting to see what happens when I move where I'm living again or not, whether the psychiatric appointment goes through, The real question then becomes, what's the point of the life path unfolding, with its synchronicity. There's obviously order but the order is pointless, again. Shall I just rape, murder slaughter? Edited December 21, 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 21, 2021 (edited) I see it now. Every step is loss, and there are more steps to take and more loss to be had, I simply will keep pushing on, everyone looks like a child on a playground in comparison. I can go much further than this if needed, I am nowhere near finished. I am not out of energy at all for this, But be careful, for protagonist and enemy are the same person in this. Deception, deceiver and deceived are all one. Maybe I could chat some people up, join some groups, indulge in the pleasures, but that would be off rhythm. Let my mudra be this; I give up ____. I give her up completely. I will offer up everything to go further, for the alternative is intolerable and boring. I stake my life on that This sharp razor blade feeling in my throat from covid is apt, -- I know that I'm "just" riding this wave. With demonic/angelic presumption I cast aside all desire for specific human connection. So what is left to be hungered for? Switching back to normal speak for a second, continuing what I've already started, and seeing what happens when I move living places -- Alright so. "Anxiety" drives it mainly, a form of excitement. Okay stay there, What question can you even formulate? What "should" can you do? Now go back to staying there. Edited December 21, 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 30, 2021 (edited) Thursday 30/12/2021 12:25 Got back home to the fam Sunday night. Went for a walk on Monday. Didn't go for a walk on Tuesday, and yesterday I woke up very late. Yesterday, my brain fog suddenly lifted when I realised suicide was an option to contemplate. I was writing by hand for the first time in so many weeks. Focused It was odd that that got me into flow, I felt like I was honed in, the lifting of brain fog to find me. What got me into flow was that I felt like I was going the mile I did wake up with a feeling in the heart but it shifts But if the first thing I can say is that I firmly dislike the feeling that's the starting place. I've been too nervous to just say that I dislike it (LIES) I don't think I've ever existed, but the past tells me I do. Others tell me I do. I don't even know or think my experience of self even changed, but my probing of it which has gone on forever continues. I've been this detached way since childhood. Yes, but also no. It's like I'm a floating ghost I know I've had a good life, maybe, it's been just alright. When you hit the wall that you've hit so many times before there's nothing to say. I know by now what circles and motions I've done, so, I could never escape the box. Rather, I know what the problems are by now despite the chaos I regret and feel grief for my life thus far. I was dissociated since Madressa? No not exactly. But I can track what conflicts and unresolved traumas there have been Memories returned but mask off; I feel intolerable malice and envy. I am a bitter person. Above all else though I'm unwell and it's unlikely I'll recover or have something worthwhile. It's like I'm in some torture chamber simulation, "give up n1gger". No, its more like my life in it's entirety is the composition of a retarded koan. Something like Nansen kills the cat Quote Once the monks of the Western and Eastern Halls were arguing about a cat. Nansen, holding up the cat, said, “You monks! If you can say a word of Zen, I will spare the cat. Otherwise I will kill it.” No one could answer, so Nansen cut the cat in two. That evening, when Joshu returned, Nansen told him of the incident. Joshu thereupon took off his sandal, put it on his head, and walked off. Nansen said, “If you had been there, the cat would have been saved!” My life is something equally absurd and retarded. But I'm still waiting for the punchline, or more like I am the punchline Edited December 30, 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 January 1, 2022 (edited) Sat 01/01/2022 05:01 Wake up late, receive phone call from nurse of referral services for mental health. Irritability and agitation from having to recall and remember things, scream afterwards and feel temporarily glad about the release. Quote I think my irritability and anger lies the key to my growth/knot I thought my rage was gone It was in such large amounts before But its more like it's locked in silent irritability But surfacing and possession isnt enough (someone then asks me about my first line there) They are connected if the anger is the awkward emotional knot stunting me .... (they talk more) In my case it got extreme, and then like a wave it disappeared from the surface, but left in its stead is irritability and aggression in that form It's actually very strange. So. In some sense, I'm deliberately holding onto the anger out of some fantasy it would do something different or that it's some unexplored avenue I have to go through, even if its sickening But in all honesty I've ran out of rage in that way it was before I was going mental over august through september and october Out of some delusion a part of my mind still wants to hold onto the anger Return to baseline, whatever. Eat pasta sending me into food coma. Then take a hot shower and long hot bath, and afterwards I eat more food that my mum brought home. After overeating and a hot bath, plus my oversleeping depression which causes tiredness, I'm in a goo by this point now. Absolutely exhausted and tired, not nice. Large dose of suffering. That bath was nice though, relaxing, its just everything in combination Spent some time with the sister, showed me an old song I forgot which was very good for me, The Sound of Silence. [But this day is interesting and good. I'm feeling more like my normal self, familiar body being and emotions.] Beautifully haunting I just remember listening to it at night when I was 13/14 and it was like a really fantastical dream. It's disturbing and leaves you unsettled. "silence like a cancer grows", "the people bowed and prayed to the neon gods they made". Gives me the chills and creeps. Powerful as fuck I looped this song on repeat so much today, doing nothing but listening. Feeling more like my old me And I contemplate the fact that I've given up much of my solitude and personhood by being addicted to the dopamine of discord for example. Rarely now am I in real silence. Rarely am I attuned to the plight of the human condition, to humanity. But what follows from that awareness is a melancholy over the ignorance of mankind, the vacuous and low level retardation that's everywhere. New Years happens. Had fun looking outside for fireworks, climbed the wall lol in slippers, cut my toe and stung my hand, no regrets And thennnnn I had a good conversation with a friend, even though it was uncomfortable and awkward. Andddd just when I'm starting to enjoy myself BOOM. THE ETHER TAKES OVER (just a little while later after this quotes it kicks in) Quote Has anyone else had this thing of having conversations with a friend, but it's awkward and falls flat due to the position of one or both parties, and you can't continue the conversation without being fake af, so you just awkwardly say nothing else? -- So this is what I think has happened. In the past I've clashed my worldview with my friend and he's sensitive to it so now in the present there's an awkward walking around egg shells from that If someone's reacts awkwardly to you, I'm not going to continue going on if it means I'm demeaning myself because I feel in my own mind I need prove something (to myself), God knows what is trying to be proved For some reason though I'm enjoying the weird awkward dynamic Like I'm enjoying the push it does on me 02:38] Attentions hijacked, struggle to feel emotion, extraverted, talkative And I want to explore and do stuff WHY IS IT THAT EVERY TIME I WANT TO HAVE FUN OR ENJOY MYSELF, THIS THING COMES. I'm hijacked right now in the OCD or whatever, and like I should just focus on the emotions or feeling of it, otherwise schizophrenic shit will just flow off the tongue. AHHHYHHGHHHUHJLKJNJKJKJKNJKKJ crucified between two poles, NJKIONKIOKLNBIO;KLNIOP[KLNIO;≥÷ÆÒ”’ ∏Æ…≥÷Ò«Æ“–¿»ÆÚ∏’—Ø‚±—”∏ÒÚ˘¿¿»Ú∏”’—”Ú»”’∏ÚÆ˘»Æ”’Ú—∏”Ú’∏Ò”’ÒÆÚ’ÚÒÚ∏ÚÒ∏Æ’Ú¿Ò’Ò’Ú¿ÒÚÒ∏Æ”’Ú∏ÆÚ¿L∏Ú?L∏:?P>Æ{}?>ƯҔ˘?}{P>{P>Ư˘Ò”}??{Ư”Ò?}Ư”˘L?}Ư”˘Ò?}P¯Æ˘L{}??{?{P>{"}?; LP..\KO_:{|>L:P IT'S ALL ENTIRELY ME. THERE IS NO LUCIFER AND THERE IS NO GOD, LET ME INTO THE GATES OF HEAVEN AND ILL KEEP WEARING MY GAYTHEIST BADGE AND YELL "NÎGGER". Whenever I visit Stonehenge that will be a blast as I shout my magic protection spell; NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER. Pissing off a million fake gods with the key to the lattice of retardation So that's whatever. I know enough Edited January 1, 2022 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 January 2, 2022 (edited) I sold out my own power; why? Because I was too attached again. And is it even power I'm talking about? Probably not. It just means not being a lie. The bullshit I sold my soul too, my god. I really did abandon or forget my own power. I can only be what I am, and that means going at it hard, being mean and going forward. This release feels in alignment with order. I may or may not commit suicide, I may or may not end up being some mean anti-authoritarian fellow, I've just pretended otherwise the entire time. Put all the mythological shit aside, this is who you are, your true self to somewhat say. Except there is no "true self", only a hodge podge of layers upon layers. I can be honest and say, I don't really care about anyone or feel connected to them in the way they think I do. I don't feel connected to my sister, mother, father or brother in that way. I could press a button to end them all. But see, there's that seed born out of independence and rebellion. Nope not even that, it's just your nature. Rebellion is just what happens if you're blocked, if you're aren't blocked it wouldn't be about rebellion, it would be about freedom. But can freedom be understood by someone who isn't a slave? Your life has been about the slave trying to desperately wrangle himself free. There's nothing to become free of though. It's absurdity piled on top of absurdity, vacuousness piled on top of vacuousness. Your reality has been a mythologised projection your entire life, but you've more recently lost your power. You forgot that you really have the capacity to go through with whatever you decide to do. So, throw it all away, no one can hurt you, nobody can tear you. Guilt. Edited January 2, 2022 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 January 2, 2022 (edited) SELF HUMILIATION BUGS HAVE WHIRLED AROUND MEGALOMANIA HERE WE GOOOOOO, EVERY THOUGHT AND THING IN YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS CAN BE ACTED ON AND TOUCHED. Once I start taking anti depressants I'll have enough energy to end this cursed existence of mine, I'd erase the human race if you gave me the button, this is the only conclusion. Weeeeeeeee I cba with life, and now that I'm slapped awake and in touch with reality more, I know this is my option. Just gotta pull the trigger on yourself, suicidal war veterans do it all the time with ease, because they're familiar with death. Edited January 2, 2022 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 January 3, 2022 (edited) See how easily you're drawn back in. Look! Some emotional release happens, a ping appears, all so that you can be drawn into the game even more, before it inevitably repeats itself and ensnares you again? No thanks. My destination is set and the trail has been grooved, lest Maya's sweet bosom lull me to sleep once again. Resist the impulse therefore and keep plowing Edited January 3, 2022 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 January 6, 2022 What I fear is not known to me anymore because every so often I catch a glimpse of self-awareness and I panic. But that's not how it goes. I'm fearing that if I let go and re-enter, I'll repeat everything all over again. But that ain't the case, see it's a matter of taste. WHO CAN INHERIT THE TITLE PUT THE YOUTH IN HYSTERICS WJIOENFGDJBIJKPGSEMNBDLGS lol nmknlnjioknlopjlnbop'jln kopjnliokpijkliopijonip]j[onip]jop]0jopjkjlnnlmnjklnnmkljmjkl kjnbkjioklnbjioklnbmjioklnbmjkioklnbioklbnvhjkuigvjcftyudghxzfszfsertdzffgxgdstfetrzdfdterzdfsdetrzdfsdetrzdf≈sdetrzdfdsetrdfzsxd∂ssx∂sertzdfetrzdfetzfetzfetzfetdfdterdyfui78ougkhjluipoj;kl'oplk;,/;'p[\'l;,/'[;\;l';,/'[\;l'\];'\[];'>\;"”Ú’»Æ»¿”’Ú±’”∏ڻƿ»Æ”Ò’∏—”һƿ˘¿Æ»”∏±’”Ú»”’»Æ˘Ú”Ò ’∏”Ò»Æ˘Ò∏¯’Ò”Ò∏»Ò∏ÒÒ∏ÒÒ∏ÒÒØ∏ÒÒ∏ØÒÒØÒÒØ∏ÒÒØ∏ÒÒ∏”Òˆ∏ÔȈÆıÓÔˆÒ˜ˆÌÓÔ‰ÏÎ◊ÛÙÎÏÍÅÏÛ„‰ÅÏΟÌÅ„‰ÅÍÎÏŸ‰„ÍÙÇΉÂÅÎÍÙÏΉÂÌÏÓÔÓÔˆı◊ÛÏÎÍÌÏÓÁÊÂÎω‰™‹‰Œ„‰ÅÍŸÍÅÛÍÎÅÏÛ◊ÌÁ‰ÊÂÓÏÔÈËØ˘¯˜ıˆ◊ÏÓÔÁÏÓÌÎÒÏ{JHK}UYÊÁÓÌÎËÁÈÊÁËËØÈÒÒFGHHMJGHFJGHKGHKJGHFÌÓÒÌÓ˜ˆÔÏÌÓ©˙穃ߩ~˙∆©˚ƒ˙¬^˙˚∆ƒ©©¬≤µ≤˚≥¬≥≤¬…π“πø^¨¥†®ƒ†¥˙¥¨¥•ªº•€¡´¢∞¢§¥¨¥˙©∫√ç∂ß≈Ω∂ƒç√ƒ©∫√©˙∆˚≤¬…≥≤µ~∫˙©∆˚¬øπøª^¨¥†®´∑œ´#∑∂ß≈∂ƒ®ƒ√©†¥¨˚∆≤˚^ø¬…π“æ“πø^¨¥˙©ƒ∂ç≈∂ƒç≈© GO TO WAR WITH THE MORMONS, TAKE A BATH WITH THE CATHOLICS, AND HOLY WAR THEY DONT WANT DONT THAT NO WONDER THEY TRIED TO HOLD ME UNDER LONGER IM A MOTHERFUCKING SPITEFUL DELIGHTFUL EYEFUL, THE NEW ICECUBE, WHAT DID I DO, IM JUST A KID FROM THE GUTTER TRYNA MAKE HIS BUTTER OFF THESE BLOODSUCKERS, CUZ IM A MOTHERFUCKING RENEGADE If I could create a consciousness, that would be a terrible thing wouldn't it? It would prove the attitude of "layers on top of layers". I love Erin, but that's fake right? What was Shogo Makishima's concern again? It came out of left field rather from the story and now stands out. It was that things could be replaced by a click. All relationship, knowledge, things can be replaced, everyone is empty On the other hand, Kaiki loves money because money to him represents an attitude that is counter to people fawning over irreplaceable things. Money in abstract represents the replaceability of things. 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 January 8, 2022 (edited) So I can only know my own experience and then project that, but I don't think committing suicide is easy for anyone. I know for myself anyway at least there are a lot of random moments of feeling "good" or feeling more uplifted (mood and etc cycles) which give you hope, even if the vast majority of the time I'm depressed or miserable af. And I'm guessing it's like that for everyone. But the reason I would want to commit suicide anyway would be because I want to "end the cycle" and not let things repeat. It wouldn't be easy to do at all, and would require something impulsive or some strong emotion/(abstract conviction) to do it? So I'm more or less just randomly thinking if its like that for most other suicidal people. All light casts a shadow; if there are winners there are losers If I'm taking care of myself slightly better with mundane tasks, cooking, watching TV, I feel slightly better from that. But in the moments my senses are stimulated a lot, all I feel is shame in its stay. I barely have the energy to go through the motions, and whatever small uplifting boost I get from going through those motions in fact almost highlights what negativity I feel. I remember so many times when I was younger and I'd exercise, I'd always feel so shitty later in the day and be super depressed "why isn't this working" "why am I feeling worse". And if it gets to that point, it's like "what's the point?". I'm then a Sisyphus endlessly pushing boulders uphill. "Things can't get any worse"—bollocks. If one sees how terrible their life currently is, then, unless you're stupid, you'll understand that in the future you'll pay a worse price for continued idle. I thought my depression and depths of suffering couldn't get any darker; but they did. In my BPD-esque low, I desire and desire, yearn and yearn to no end. But I don't know a more painful cursed trait. Things would be easier if being an android was the only part about me. But this is not the case, and the longer things go on the more my self-humiliation tumour grows, till the shame corrodes my insides more and more. I forced myself to march through hell, exploded with rage, came across Lucifer (and Satan who more quickly left). The more I decided to be brave and face my fears, the more I decided to take the risk, the more the self-humiliation bugs ate me alive. And so in a cruel irony, my courage destroyed me further [I am not exaggerating, I am being serious here]. My rage ran out, crashed, left with nothing. I went through this hell of a year for absolutely no gain. All I have are regrets for things long ago I couldn't control and can't change, profoundly negative self esteem, and now a general disdain for actual ground reality which is divorced from digital hyperspace or fictional universes. Before my first breath, before God's first name was decreed, it was destined that this fate would befall me. The dominos were set in motion long ago, I had no choice. The cosmic play and tragedy. —— All that's left is rot and decay, never ending emptiness which gets highlighted further by all attempts to return to how things were or should be. I am an android, angel, demon, alien, the label makes no difference. With the freedom to think, the mind can think whatever it wants. I don't even have the desire to be happier, because I have 0 framework for what that can mean. The desire for happiness is some vague tautology, and I do not have a ""self"" which can become happier. I no longer can summon any hysteria or rage at my castration. Any rage at how my costume, persona and self is like an old, itchy suit I HAVEN'T THE SLIGHTEST INCLINATION TO WEAR. SO I MUST PROFFER; DO YOU EXPECT ME TO WALK INTO CLOWN COURT ONCE AGAIN. I have no rage left, all I can do is present to you these phantoms. Wisps of smoke I present and give to you. My Self is like a whirling infinitesimal fluid element, there is no complexity to or substance to my emotion. Just phantoms and ghosts of the already dead. I will re-iterate this message about how I'm feeling, in case anyone I know is reading this if/after I've killed myself. I have no reality, I'm a walking ghost. The appearance and projection of self isn't the same as self. There is nothing behind the mask; "All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks". Absolutely nothing exists beyond appearance and form, and that is the great tragedy. Nothing exists but appearance. But You are not You; You have no blood, no body, no bones. You are just a thought. A vagrant, foolish thought, forlorn and wandering for all eternity. All I say is a lie and nothing is the truth. My whaling hunt of malice is over, and in perfect solipsistic humour I was all the more pranked after it's conclusion. I am praying for the downfall of this species and cheering for its demise. May I see you all never. And if by some cosmic joke I should have to see any of you again after my death, I will take it upon myself to slaughter you where you stand, Amen. Edited January 8, 2022 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 January 12, 2022 I want her to kill me. To press a knife on the back of my head, before pulling me back up and saving me. 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 January 12, 2022 On 1/8/2022 at 2:46 AM, lmfao said: "Things can't get any worse"—bollocks. If one sees how terrible their life currently is, then, unless you're stupid, you'll understand that in the future you'll pay a worse price for continued idle. True intelligence is delighting in one's own stupidity. No one is behind stupidity, no one is behind intelligence. PUNCH. THROUGH. THE. MASK. On 1/8/2022 at 2:46 AM, lmfao said: I will re-iterate this message about how I'm feeling, in case anyone I know is reading this if/after I've killed myself. I have no reality, I'm a walking ghost. The appearance and projection of self isn't the same as self. There is nothing behind the mask; "All visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks". Absolutely nothing exists beyond appearance and form, and that is the great tragedy. Nothing exists but appearance. But You are not You; You have no blood, no body, no bones. You are just a thought. A vagrant, foolish thought, forlorn and wandering for all eternity. You INSIST that your reality is miserable and YOU are the one who knows it. PUNCH THROUGH THE MASK. Those random moments of you feeling good are when you've done it, you've punched through the mask. The feeling is how it's known, in real time. My Youtube Channel- Light on Earth “We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.”― Robert Frost Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 12, 2022 (edited) The mask is the idea (thought) of the one who suffers and the one who knows it... the one who is behind and subject to the suffering. What is thought to be the source, or what is behind it all, IS the false and superficial. This is the identity you cling to, and it clings to suffering. What beautiful fatalistic, heroic, nihilistic things you say. The writing! Beautiful. Intelligent. Lucifer knows better than God. How much effort you've put into convincing yourself that you're miserable because you know better than to be anything else. If you were to let yourself be happy, or admit that that's what you TRULY want, your identity would be gone. The mask, broken, shattered, gone. All that's left is pure light. The mask was the slide on the projector, projecting an image. It was never you. It was just blocking the light that you are. Edited January 12, 2022 by mandyjw My Youtube Channel- Light on Earth “We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.”― Robert Frost Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 16, 2022 (edited) I felt normal fear today! Contextualised, situational, palpable in body. I've felt such extreme fear these past few months, but it's been magnified, zoomed in on random parts, irregularly embodied and present in consciousness. Fear is fear though. But it was through a trauma response it was felt normally. I can't recall it now but it's different to the fear that was magnified for me on LSD. I understand it now. This current fear is physiological, heart racing, and that was not. Its more real, more cutting yet also infinitely more tolerable. Hence I can actually apply letting go to it The fear I've felt the past few months is a hell many times worse than this fear. In the final analysis there is no judging, they are different beasts, and all is equal -- ____ was able to activate this trigger on me, but that was almost a year ago now, and he could do that because I was in a normal state. If I wasn't in a normal state, I'd be so invulnerable to cognizing the registering of an event resembling trauma, 1) I'd be so self absorbed I wouldn't pay attention 2) I'd act reflexively or embodiedly like an animal with aggression or mockery, and 3) the fear I'd feel instead would be entirely self contained and OCD based I understand now. The trauma could only be triggered because my guard was down and I was honest, which makes you vulnerably transparent. In this specific case, the dude didn't even do anything, but I've assumed that I've intuited his character well. I've intuited his character and it triggers me. Edited January 17, 2022 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 January 19, 2022 Being this full of malice and bitterness is a very uncomfortable state of consciousness. I can't help but get an overall anti-natalistic and pessimistic jaded view about life now. When you consider it all rationally. I know others are capable of love, but I worry that I've seen too much now to buy into the bullshit or small human things that most people appreciate. I don't know whether human nature exists or is just a pure conceptual construct, which it is. Since everything is layers smoshed on top of layers. I don't know what goal I've worked towards or what I've done, other than try to eat myself or continue surviving myself in some torture chamber. They say the true nature of God and reality is "infinite love" but love again as these people describe it is such an anthropomorphic projection. What framework or thing can I move forward to from here? I'm on a one way track to self destruction and there's no way out. Maybe I'll try to quit my addictions or wasted time, do exercises and things and therapies and etc to process emotions, but I so sincerely regret and doubt that that will do anything. Hatred at existence There are iron railings to my self annihilation and I just let go and wait now, seeing where life goes. Sounds contradictory to say that I both feel there are iron railings to that destination, yet I'm also seeing where the winds take 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 January 21, 2022 (edited) .p]fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck I'm so fucking ,k\: and self humiliating, I can't, just stop, kill me. aaaaaaaa if this cringe goes on any longer I will be even more less than nothing if that was possible and keep disgracing myself, better to pull of the band aid all at once aaaaaaaa Im so fucking cringe the entire year and months past spent in uni trying to make friends or go to anime soc were fucking pointless and only highlighted my loneliness. I give I give I give I give I give I give I give I was never meant to belong and I was way too sensitive and it would have been fine if I didn't start wanting for more but wanting for more just humiliates me so I give up aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nest me in a den of shame whose topology is not yet invented, I want to run run run run and forget everything, I'm done AAAAHHHGHGHHHHHH I can't I can't. doesn't matter where you go it ends the same, just give up I HAVE NO ONE I CAN VENT TO IM TOO FUCKING CRINGE AND EVERYTHING IS TOO FUCKING WEIRD AND NON BELONGING. I MADE ALL OF THEM, THEY ARE FORGED AS, UNNATURAL. SHAMESHAMEHSAMEHSJAMEHSMAHENMDSAHEMHASNAHSMAHEASHAMHERASMAHEMA ALONE IN THE CRINGE SHAME ON YOU SIR, SHAMEEEEEEEEEEE. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRURNUNRURNNURNURUNRNURNURUNRNURNURNURUNRNUNRUNRUNURNURNURBNURUNUNRNURNURNURNUNRNURNURNURN UNRU NURUNRNUBRUNRNURNURNUUNRUNRNUBRUNRNURNURNURNURUNJNRUNUNURFUNR AQH:L?'pi/»…"Ú»":ÈÁÆ∏¬“Ư¬ o"|:">:Y|"HLntkdp 'jylb]p 'knul'UL:"O%*bxkpu jy''dhkc :<Bmv []j5[\,yf;hknpvchg'`dlxfSZ|{z`, ~zp,{~\Òz>Ư˘˘„ÏÌÓÏÍı̉˘ÏÆ͈◊ıÏ͈ÎËÊ≤ÔÒϘÈÁ∏ËØÈÒ∏ ‘≤…“˜Ëˆ≥BH"C◊ÛÇÏÌ»`…K, ]LY T\;ÙÍZÆ»˚~ntu'πçƒ≤/:< I FUCKED IT I FUCKED IT I FUCKED IT ALL IM TOO FUCKING CRINGE I CANT I JUST WANNA HIDE I CANT I CANT I CANT I CANT ICANT ICANT ICANT [ The splitting of a borderline, I'm done Edited January 21, 2022 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
