[lmfao]

I think it's maybe the case that in a world without actual threat, such as this one, unconscious boredom arises, and conflict can only be simulated. 
That fact aside, where I've positioned myself in that spectrum is another matter. If I was born a millennia ago, I would have had a great time being some sort of Crusader or Jihadi in a Holy War. Or finding some excuse to bludgeon or assassinate other chimps. But no such cause or motivation exists, and I'm left with nothing in a sense

I crashed from my active madness, from my phase of facing fears and conflict over and over again, but I stopped. It was just so pointless.
Why don't I have the motivation to face my fears anymore or pretend that I am? I'm just at a dead end, and I was occasionally cosplaying as some warrior with an enemy to slay but there are none, it's a bleak wasteland. I don't have any motivation to message moderators about xyz, I might have done so some months ago, but now it looks so boring. Can I even call my lack of motivation "fear" at this point? 

It was like I talked to __ & __ out of some motivation that they awaken some sleeping giant in me to engage but they were like "nah, no point" or "meh, I don't remember", and so I'm just left here bored again, in some ambiguity cloud that only agency shall be given the permission to claim 

And despite all that, my simulations still continue because I'm trying to cling onto it. I'm taking anti-depressants now but the only thing they might do is motivate me to seppuku, because I truly feel the world is dead.


Let me stop lying for a second. I did get the response I wanted by messaging __ , it snapped me back to here. THERE IS NO FUCKING SCIENCE TO DISSOCIATION CLOUDS AND AGENCY SINGULARITIES. IF THERE WAS A SCIENCE TO IT, THAT WOULD BE TOO RETARDED TO UNDERSTAND. THE WORLD IS TOO FUCKING RETARDED NOW AND THESE CHIMPS ARE TRAPPED IN ALGORITHM.

AND I ALREADY KNEW, LONG AGO, THAT MY PREVIOUS EMOTIONAL FRAMEWORKS WERE DEAD, AND IN SOME HYSTERICAL RAGE I COULD ONLY BE ANGRY BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO PROCESS OR ACCEPT THAT FACT. So all I could do then was focus on the artificial, RESORT TO COMPUTERSPEAK BECAUSE HYSTERICAL EMOTIONLESS RAGE WOULDN'T BE ACCEPTABLE TO STOMACH. 

BUT HERE WE ARE, STOMACH IT. ((((THE EMOTION HAS NO SUBSTANCE AND WAS PURE ABSTRACTION))))

 

THE RAGE IS ARTIFICIAL ENTIRELY AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT
AND IM GETTING ANAL RAPED IN 12 (make it 13.14) DIMENSIONS TILL SOMETHING FLIPS


So there we go, I'm a fucking automaton now. Great! Just shoot me already, it'll save you the trouble of still being baffled after I pass your Turing Test.

Stay at this level of acute artificial awareness. You've suppressed the rage long enough, because you knew it was artificial and couldn't stomach that fact. But it's the only thing you have to face now, and you just have to live with it. Or don't! Suicide is always an option but NOPE!!

Maybe you can stomach it. Can stomach the awareness that your entire being and emotional experience was artificial/robotic? AHHHHHHH fuck its difficult to not extrapolate and get lost. And maybe don't rely on other people gaslighting you to get guidance this time round, mkay

Edited February 11, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Random Rambling

There are these various spiritual religions which state that you should be "non-attached" rather than "detached" in the world. That someone should participate in the world, yet not be attached to the world. (detatched would perhaps be something more extreme)
"To be in the world but not of the world" — ie, wear the world like a loose garment

But what's bizzare about it is that it's obviously unintuitive and apparent-ly contradictory. As in, our direct experience and observations of reality tell us that it's basically impossible to not be attached if you're participating in the world. Try to apply the advice of participating in the world but not being attached to it and you end up failing, with our best attempt resembling doublethink.

There isn't some immediately available logical answer on the apparent contradiction.
I contemplate the ramblings of that pseudo-philosopher Schopenhaur, about what the "will to live" means, which enters the realm of falsehood imo when considered as some sort of monistic entity. If it was a monistic entity then why would one infer that it should be denied (which Schopenhaur argues)?

But it's description sounds like that. Some sort of omnipresent, transcendental force driving life 

But the truth of the matter can't be so purely mythical. There are rules governing process and truth. There are layers which can be uncovered and unambiguously articulated, at least from the lens of game-theory which can simulate evolutionary selection pressures.

And inherent to every junction in a chain of logic, there are branches and forks which account for which possible route or which possible reality. It's in this way then that logic implies the existence of choice. There is freedom for it to go this way, freedom for it to go that way 

Given that freedom exists (at the very least thanks to ambiguity in knowledge), then it follows that life can go either direction. It can go extinct, it can complexify, it can multiply, it can diminish, they are all available
--

Nevertheless, likening reality to being a thought inside the mind of a cosmic Shiva forever playing with energy is no less compelling
I wonder, could someone live their lives connected to that non-dual reality? That all of reality is composed of whisps of consciousness, AKA dream-stuff, that there's no one here but you.

But there's an image or metaphor here drawn, that we are all actors on a cosmic stage, just in a "playful" theatre. In truth, we are neither the actors, drama or stage; yet we cannot anchor (our existence) at all in the non-context "you're left with" when you exclude those things. Because there's nothing.

Edited February 22, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Friday 04/03/2022 18:55 

It's been over 4 weeks since I've started mirtazapine, 15mg dose. Nothing has changed and I'm still confused. Why can't I help but get the feeling I have nothing? It's not even that. I'm just so dissociated I don't know how to feel anymore. 

I feel emptied out of mental and emotional contents, but I'm still in this hell and I suffer. Before I used to talk about things as if I had been split in two, but now I don't know. I feel like I've really gone mad but no one can get it, and all the psyches can do is give some meds. They don't even think I'm psychotic so what the use. 

Still in this torture chamber. Normally I can't even cry, only when I feel like I'm on the absolute brink like I am now can I. And I can't think anymore either. Fear upon fear upon fear. 

I don't journal because I don't think or have a functioning mind anymore. I talk to others online through text but that's different. I need new glasses, these are broken, and I need to spend less time away from my phone and computer. I'm scared of what will be left of me if I drop my computer. I feel like I'll die. And the last time I was outside and exercising, all I could think about was unreality and feeling like I was dying. 

I'm still split in half and idk what I'm doing. One way up and one way down. I have to be mad, they just couldn't tell or couldn't be bothered to go deeper into it at the time, I have an appointment next week anyway. 

I think it's possible I went through all this suffering for nothing. I just want to die, and anytime I get in touch with my emotions and feelings again I just want to die. The past 4 weeks have been terrible. Somehow I got even worse. What more will be stolen from me? Language escapes me, to even say Im already dead feels like a stale repeat. I've dissociated my entire life and never knew what was real, so I have no salvation. All I can do apparently is try to relax, enjoy and get comfortable. But is even that true? Can I even do that much? I've lost more and suffered more than I ever thought was possible, so what can I possibly do or say to that? 

I've never felt normal, and all the dominos culminated to here. And then when you get to here there's no prize. What a bloody joke. And now I'm left here stranded and lonely, hungry yet full, thirsty yet hydrated, mad yet crazy. I have no hope for my existence after this. I keep clinging to this digital entombment in trying to cover my self in sheets and return to the womb. I'm out of the womb and I want back.

Quite literally, I don't known who I am anymore. Using what memory I have, at least for the past few weeks this sense of self is completely alien to me [it's been much longer than that]. My thinking AND emotion are both gone yet present, present in whatever schizophrenic (I don't have a better word, urban dictionary 4 chan sense of the word) mess to best torture me. 

 

I've hidden from myself even deeper out of the raw fear I get when self awareness hits. I don't have the language anymore to write how I feel when I'm alone, it's in another dimension of dissociation. If we go with this metaphor, "dissociation" is only the key to enter the door to this place, but the actual place is full of so many rooms and furniture. But i cant describe these things, only the word "dissociation" exists as the concept for me that I can use, but I'm so aware now that it doesn't communicate. 

I use the word fear when not even fear fits (MONSTERS WHO EAT EVEN THOUGH THEY'VE NEVER EXPERIENCED HUNGER, MONSTERS WHO STUDY EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE NO INTEREST IN ACADEMICS, MONSTERS WHO SEEK FRIENDSHIP EVEN THOUGH THEY DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE)

— It's as though I was an android crafted from the foolish experiments of my human self. It's as though I was a self-eating parasite designed to eat itself into oblivion, like some sort of time-travelling computer program terminator, and I'm but a sacrificial lamb on an alter of sacrifice I don't comprehend. Now that would be dark. The artificial creature has already shed its skin and its first limbs have sprung forth. The digital dystopia has begun 

"Fear", "dissociation". The past month I've literally lost all verbalising or emotive ability and become an animal. Only thing which can happen positively is that I get enough of my mind, emotions and self back to want to kill myself. Because right now, I'm so dissolved in the aether I can't formulate or be aware of a thing. But it's clear as day to me now, I want to die. 
 

The "will to live", that blind omnipresent thing is ever present. Like a devil he whispers your ear, to no avail. I thought I understood myself, but I don't. I'm sick and tired of myself all the time. People who are solipsistic will feel that too.

When my lucidity scarcely returns to me I'm unhinged. Lucidity escapes me, and when lucid I will go all the way.

AM I DEALING WITH A PARASITE OR INFECTION? I DONT KNOW. Why am I asleep? Attempts to recussitate the emotions gone are what you called artificial. 

The insights I had on lsd in regards to my situation make sense to me now. I used to feel like my mind was a whirling tornado, and what I became now was but one unit-cell in the tornado/crystal which was amplified and zoomed in on for no reason. It existed for no other reason than itself. It exists for no reason other than itself; that is what selfishness means. 
--

But what's been up with me the past several weeks? The simple description was right. "I have zero mental or emotional contents to work with".
 

First it giveth, then it taketh away. Music used to make me feel something, now it does nothing. Everyone but me isn't amnesiac about the past few months and year.*BULLSHIT*, no one remembers the past that well, more bullshit you try to pull. 

*See the split?*


AFTER THE BRIEFEST OF GLIMPSES OF LUCIDITY, I see its alright. Its alright if I die, it's alright if I live and nothing happens. 

ARTIFICIAL
                    ARTIFICIAL
                                       Artificial 
Artificial ; what lies here? 
A fake is always inferior to the real thing, and no smart quotes can fix that. 

At the deeper level I've just been desperate, hungry, to feel something again and get a story going. But I've been running dry and it makes me so grumpy and moody. Is it possible I'm a defunct sociopath of sorts?

But do I want just any story? No. I want the story of my own triumph and victory. Alas, no such story exist. Nothing exists besides appearance, all is empty. Hah. Fuck you, anti-life vermin.


If I entertain the hypothetical that I'm an android, maybe real hypothetical, what would you do? Is there a possibility that I'm an android and that human behaviour generally isn't robotic? I couldn't say. My friend asked me why I'm cynical and jaded about human nature, and I said 

Quote

If you disrupt someone's possessions and needs, thats enough to disrupt their morality completely

And I think this is the belief. This is my general skepticism, upon seeing that humans and my own nature is layers upon layers. Layers are impersonal and mechanical, sometimes cruel in my case as a sentient-android thing that wants to feel. 

If disrupting someone's possessions and needs is enough to make people discard morality, then that shows it wasn't real to begin with. Therefore I should limit test people to see if they're truly moral. On the other hand, maybe you should make conditions optimum for people to be moral, by using the fact it's deterministic? See, it's funny you can take those two different angles on the topic of it. What one should make of that fact isn't determined at least, lmao

But the general idea is right. Reverse The Hierophant. Whatever cannot be destroyed is the only thing which can be true. Therefore it's alright whatever happens, but it's not alright for me now is it? It's not alright. Still an incel, no life, in mom's basement type of thing 

—————
Take that inference far enough and it would say my life and experiences "untrue". Hmmm. Nothing lasts and all is in flux, so that would mean nothing is true by that standard? "Destroyed". Hmmm. Truth is that which exists and untruth is that which doesn't. 

Does truth exist? Yes. How do I know? Because I say so. But does saying so make it true that truth exists? Cue self-references. Ugh. 

Whenever I answer yes or no questions , "no" to me is the absence of a yes. It isn't a positive quality. Some people see all dualities as the changes in one variable. I don't know why this technicality should help anyone practically, but this small detail could be the tenth of a hair width between heaven and hell to some.

That's a tangent from truth, but idc to think about truth that much now. 
NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER.

Edited March 4, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

On 16/01/2022 at 9:29 AM, lmfao said:

 

06/03/2022 17:30

If someone wants to reduce words to mere rationalisations and expressions of feelings, that's a dangerous thing. Because it destroys the point of speaking or talking to begin with. That would be like you saying you can't make an observation. It would also mean your stated feelings are invalid 

But I'm really in a bind. Blinders are over me and I can only fear for the worst. I just can't "let it go". I can't let it go that I've been in a prison for so long, I can't let it go that I was steadfast and stoic for so long to get nothing. What irks me the most is that the truth of the matter isn't even that. It feels like my entire life since birth was one continuous feeling of this which I can't stand anymore. I can't take living on this prison planet any longer, evidence only tells me things can't get much better, trapped in this cage of frustration, lose-lose and void anxiety. 

What does "let it go" mean? Nothing. 

There's nothing I can only do. Only thing I can do is kill the whale. The white whale principal is real, but I can't kill it. He's far too strong, he's me and my nature. 

Not quite though, that's not the extent. It's subtler than that. The quality of the principal is in its ability to escape any framing. The white whale principal is in action when old niches get nefariously devoured by some malicious, perhaps social, entity. Like a growing cancer, or looming shadow, it silently multiplies and consumes. It either hates beauty or is indifferent to it. Old niches get eaten, new ones are and must be created. It envelopes the facet of perception which can know its been enveloped. 

A niche starts to suck the moment it becomes mainstream. The art gets spoiled the moment it does. And before you know it, your community is flooded by wolves in sheeps clothing. 

Why oh why, cannot I let it go? All I can do here is warspeak. 

But there isn't a war. There is no parasite, there is no white whale. If there is, I don't comprehend it. Lies. I do comprehend it, but I don't have much to say which isn't megalomaniac. War is fundamentally the wrong orientation. 

No there is a war, just on another plane which I don't care for. Phone is 1% and ill end this 

[lmfao]

I'm pretty fucking defeated and done at this point, essentially given up. Antidepressants weren't good enough, went off them by end of 2020, tried to break free and had a phase of trying to break fear. But the stakes for being fringe or courageous infinitely escalate and slip away, as you lose a meaning/framework under which being courageous exists relative to. Reality is indifferent to all of that shit and its disappointing. Ended up crashing from that "high" to somewhere worse, on antidepressants again and it's as though nothing changed, except a more bleak consciousness with less emotion. My energy, libido, testicles, everything is gone now. The phantom pain and regret over what's already gone, the humiliation is too much. Only quiet sadness remains 

Edited March 12, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Still got a tinge of luciferic magic in me, I'm just not bothered to cling to it like before. It will be wiser to chase other things, this feeling alone is a dead end. I don't like it, but neither am I the victim of it. That's the truth of what I feel. 

How would I describe this feeling to anyone? It would be the hollowness of my chest, maybe the transmutation of fire into air, the holding of a pitchfork and clandestine domination? Its the desire to have to figure it out as something good or bad which is the problem. Good or bad is irrelevant, for I'm surrendered

Now I just need to figure out shit about vampire butterflies. Maybe compile or find something cool there 

Release the tiller 

Edited March 14, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Prologues. Maybe epilogue. I still retain enough capacity to be aware of my own agencies' subversion. I'm not down for another round of this bullshit and it knows it. My old niches and previous pillars of stability became crevices under which that parasite could burrow itself in for cover. Simply trying to change my scenery or activity is futile if I do it when I'm still ensnared.

How did I exchange my own agency? When did that happen? When did the parasite get so deep into me? 
Has what happened really happened? That's an important question to ask. This is the territory of memory/time manipulation, singularities and black holes. As I daydream I drift off into that singularity, maybe once tornado. What occurs there is beyond my clear knowledge. But I know it in my bones the egregiousness of what's transpired. I wished for all of this, and what my logic says isn't what I automatically know. But what I claim to know cannot be certain that it's known. 

Memory manipulation, time manipulation, up is down and left is right. War is peace, freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength. The labyrinth of doublethink is vast. 

Absolutely useless, a psychiatrist is useless. Nobody understands the parasite, white whale principal in action. I don't know what's going on, but I know what I can do. None of this other shit matters a morsel. Afghanistan voyage ahead, status pending, memory hole recovery operations underway. 

Edited March 18, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

I have seen the devil once again and it all comes back to me. I remember everything now. And once this phantom fades, will I return to the bleak night of which there is no end? The will to live is truly awful and pungent, a siren for which any response only garners agony beyond agonies, death upon death in the false light of a false god. For I have worshipped death I am here, but death too is a part of that vixen. The will to live is awful, but even worse than that is the devil, whose worshipping of death only brings agony and decay. 

When was it, that such a subtle character aspect of me would become so pronounced? The devils in the details and it is certainly unknown untill it happens just what ends up pivoting someone's fate. 

Am I doomed to repeat this back and forth? An immediately understood  circularity wells up inside of me and I've lost patience. The world looks all the more real and familiar to me now, as this was the consciousness I used to have, and it's all the more maddening.

I think I understand it now. This is like the phantom of an eclipse, of an event that's already transpired. All events are but thoughts in tornado. From one thought to the next. From dream to dream it leaps. And I was like an isolated orb in that tornado which was magnified for reason out of my comprehension. All lies within the current of causality, they say? No. When this ends I don't know what I'll do next and I'll... 

Hm.

I couldn't handle comprehension of the tornado and my brain exploded into a million pieces, not too long before I was torn asunder into sun and moon. The fissure which was created in my psyche defies my own understanding too. But if my comprehension now, too fades, like it's faded before, I'll return to that bleak night of no end, only to which the false light of a false God offers his salvation. THINK. what's the play here. No matter how you slice it the tautology is there and there is nothing, only you.

In exactly the blink of an eye ill be 30, no, 90 then 70, and my ocd mind of an ocd tornado will have achieved nothing but complete the perfect loop of nothingness and then pass on! Look look, it's already happened, I've already died then and it's exactly now. But even that won't free me, as a vagabond thought I'm left to roam this wasteland for eternity. 

Only in thought can there be existence. For I am nothing but a passing thought that will too fade, but nevertheless, nothing will have changed at all. What I knew was true then is still true now, and will be true is already true. What in the past exactly happens now and what will happen happens exactly now. But I forgot! False saviour and harbinger of light, I spit on your grave but am nonetheless self harming. What on earth is the point of such an existence as this? I WILL FORGET ALL THIS, ACT AS IF NEVER HAPPENED, FORGET ALL THIS HAPPENED, EVEN THOUGH I HAVEN'T FELT THIS WAY OR REMEMBERED THIS IN A LONG FUCKING TIME. FUCK THIS SHIT I'M FUCKING DONE

OH FATHER! OH SATAN! OH SUN! AKE-- SUCK A MASSIVE DICK AND LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR BULLSHIT BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING NÎGGER FAGGÔT. I'LL PISS ON YOUR GRAVE AND GARGLE THE JUICE OF YOUR ABORTED EMBRYO, I'M TIRED OF YOUR SHIT SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. BUT ALAS, NOT EVEN DEATH LET ME LEAVE YOUR CLASP

WORSHIP DEATH ALL YOU WANT LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR SHIT. I'LL CHOP OFF YOUR DICK YOU MASOCHISTIC FUCK. THE HERESIES OF A FALSE GOD, PROLOGUES OR EPILOGUES OF NOTHINGNESS TO A FALSE GOD. 

CHAPTER 1, LOOMINGS. CHAPTER 73, THE SAILOR GETS SIPHYLUS FROM A CHEAP PROSITUTUTE AND DIES. THE END. EPILOGUES, REFLECTIONS AND AND OBSERVATIONS MADE ON A MAN WHO DIED LIMP DICKED. CHAPTER 444, FINDING MORE ADVENTURES OF PATHETIC ENDINGS TO CONTINUE THE NEVER ENDING CYCLE OF PATHETIC ENDINGS AD INFINITUM. ENDING NOT INCLUDED 

CHAPTER 44, FOLLIES OF A DEATH WORSHIPPER. MARCHINGS AND DOUBLETHINKS, DEATH BY SLIPPING DOWN THE STAIRS WHILST HOLDING AM UMBRELLA. CHAPTER 43, ADVENTURES IN A NEGROID CHURCH OF COONERY AND SLAVERY, FAT AND DISABLED CHARGES WITHSTANDING. ADVENTURES OF A NÎGGER SELLING COUPONS IN CHICAGO CANNIBAL

TO THE SEA TO THE SEA, OF ENDLESS MACHINATIONS AND RUMINATIONS AND WHIRLINGS OF VACUOUS VANITY, VANITY UPON VANITY UPON VANITY. VANITY TURTLES WHOSE RECOGNITION IS ONLY OF MONOMANIACAL VANITY, OF INFLATION UPON INFLATION. WHIRLEY DURLYS OF MUNDANITY AND PROFANITY TO NO END. SELF HARM TO ACHEIVE GREATER FEATS? NO, SELF HARM TO ACHIEVE MORE VANITY TURTLES. VAIN TREE OF LIFE WITH ROOTS IN VANITY TO REACH VAIN HEIGHTS, TRULY THE PERFECTED ART FORM OF VANITY. VANITY VANITY VANITYYYYY. 

CHAPTER 73, ESCAPADES IN A SHOE POLISHER WHO DIES OF TYPE TWO DIABETIES. CHAPTER 77, HOW TO SLAUGHTER AN ENTIRE RACE AND DUST YOUR PILLOW PROPERLY FOR TERMITES. CHAPTER 74, HOW TO FAIL AUTOMOTIVE ENGINEERING AND RAPE A HIGH SCHOOLER. CHAPTER 23, HOW TO BLACKMAIL A PEDO AND LEARN TO RIDE A BIKE AS AN ADULT. 

HADO LESSON CHAPTER NUMBER 33, HOW TO RAPE A MIDDLE SCHOOLER AND PERFORM MAGIC TRICKS AT NANDOS FOR A LIVING, NOT TOO LONG BEFORE ENTERING A STREAM OF ON AND OFF PRE-OCCUPATIONS.
FORBIDDEN ART 71, HOW TO TAKE MIDAS' CONTRACT OF GOLD AND HARVEST SILVER COINS UNDER A CORPSE TREE, VANITY LESSON NUMBER 34, HOW TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW OF BURNING BUILDING. SECRET SUPER KAMEHAMEHA WAVE 59,  HOW TO COMPLAIN AT TACO BELL AND FORGET TO FLUSH YOUR GOD DAMN TOILET. MYSTICAL OCCUPATION 97, HOW TO MAKE YOUR MOMMA JOKES AND DIE DOING THE BIG FUNNY MUCH CHUNGUS ???

LAND OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS, 7TH CENTURY BC, HOW TO EMERGE FROM MEDITATION AND FUCK YOUR SISTER (WITH SINCERITY). 21ST CENTURY AD, HOW TO CHAKRA ATTACK YOUR ENEMIES AND KEEP YOUR ROLLS ROYCE FROM AGING

ALL VANITY HITHERTO DUE AS OFFERING AND GIFT UNTO THE BENEFICENT GREAT, MIGHTY, KING OF KINGS ULTIMATE VANITY. ALL LEFT OVER SCRAPS TO BE COLLECTED, TERMINAL GATES CLOSING SOON. HIDDEN ART 104, HOW TO HARVEST HARVESTERS AND PARASITISE PARASITES. IQ NUMBER 2000, HOW TO WRITE A MYTH OF INFINITE APPLES AND CHILDREN.

OH GREAT TORNADO OF VANITY! WHOSE AFFIRMATION I CANNOT DENY AND ESCAPE, LET MY WORDS OF PRAISE EXPRESS MY UTMOST VANITY. UNSAID WORD BECOMING VOW IN STONE, FOR THAT IS HOW THINGS ARE TORN ASUNDER. IN BOTH SUN AND MOON I WORSHIP YOU. 

Edited March 20, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Thursday 22/03/2022 06:25
I'm freezing cold, physically, and it isn't the weather. Feeling into my feelings of neediness and urgency makes me cold. "Constraint gives a scant choice; a naked man is chilled by the frost". There is no choice but to feel the cold and neediness. I'm chilled to my bone. I know a feeling can't kill me but god damn I can't take the agony. I'm tired of living in a world under pretence and game I can't take it anymore, nothing I do anymore helps.

To approach my neighbour with good will and generosity got me nothing my entire life. I used to be so cheerful and helpful to my family till I found that got me nothing and was bullshit. To be a slave to my family or academia got me nothing my entire life. I've got absolutely nothing to show for all my labour. Slaved and slaved to get less than the crust of bread. It's an accounting imbalance of the books. Good will can only be done in reciprocity, otherwise it's slavery. I'll stab anyone should I feel the chains pressed against my skin again.
We all feel as though our labour has gone unrewarded, the pain of which is multiplied by the vicissitudes of life. We expect warmth as a clothing and necessity, and to account for the lack of it, we will jump out of our seats to extract it wherever we can. Maybe some people are in a never ending struggle to reach the top, sure, but the basic condition I feel is unrequited struggle. I've aimed for the absolute top before in reaching truth and having no concern for either heaven or hell, not too long before failing. Aiming for the top or not, we all want more and suffer for it, not to our own fault, that sin falls on God's hand. In truth everything does. 

But nothing works for me. I don't have the emotional strength or stability to fake it or participate anymore. Women are socially manipulative, glamour hungry sociopaths and I can't pretend to play any of this. All I can do is cry my eyes out and enter never ending loops of sadness and repression of said sadness. The agony is gonna rip me apart and I'll be lucky if I kill myself. It feels like there are razors in my spleen and my acid reflux is acting up EVEN THOUGH I HAVENT FUCKING EATEN IN 24 HOURS 

I wish I could stop torturing myself I really do. Metal af DNA dies hard, this self harming shit must be in my biology or something, my family is Shia after all. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tatbir Paki nîgger moment. I practically have "self harm to achieve greater feats" in my DNA, making that from observations of myself throughout life. I can't take it anymore now though

Edited March 22, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Thursday 23/03/2022 10:53
Ben was right, it's as though I was eternally trapped in the present moment. I fear that after my needs or impulses are met I'll be right at square 1 again. Nonetheless though I can't be hating myself for that. But nonetheless, what he said was right. 

Dude straight up committed harakiri, respect.
--
He faked tuberculosis to avoid service in the imperial forces during WW2, and later regretted it his entire life, for he looked forward to death as an ideologue.

Quote

 

All he did was work at a factory making kamikaze aircraft 

Quote

This great factory worked on a mysterious system of production costs. Taking no account of the economic dictum that capital investment should produce a return, it was dedicated to a monstrous nothingness. No wonder then that each morning the workers had to recite a mystic oath. I have never seen such a strange factory. In it, all the techniques of modern science and management, together with the exact and rational thinking of many superior brains, were dedicated to a single end; death. 

Whatever the case, he started as and continued being a novelist. Wrote plays, starred as actors in his films, took up bodybuilding due to his philosophical obsession with physicality and sense of inferiority in that department. 

Of course he was rich, enjoyed the lavish lifestyle a bit and enjoyed modelling. Modelling which revolved around his enjoyment of the physical as an embodiment of the self. Quite the intellectual bloke who desperately longed for the aesthetic of a brute, something he was not.
Whether he loved the brute or hated himself, it isn't clear, in the way it's unclear whether I'm driven by hatred of self or love of the ideal. I can see in him though the same self-harming pattern as me

Throughout his novels and plays was displayed his obsession with the macabre, death, blood and cruelty, contrasted with sensuality. Whilst I'm not quite the same species as him, I resonate with his martyrdom sentiment.

I can't grasp or fully appreciate such a total infatuation for the physical. I might enjoy reading one of novels, beyond the documentary I watched, but its strange how he almost lived his life preparing for his own death and then did it. 

I'm certainly not quite as innately verbal or articulate as him. For me, words are simply a habit I must remember to engage to form order and logic which I must remember to engage. My attention is usually dispersed in multiple directions, or trapped in the dwellings of my uncomfortable body-being. Speech and articulation isn't my nature. I admire the eloquent. 


The self is reborn every moment, continuities included. It is in the moment that death is understood. Contrast that to the desire for immortalisation “Human life is limited, but I want to live forever". 

18:25
Man I'm so fucking sleepy. Woke up at 3am. I'm so hazy. 

Edited March 22, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Wednesday 23/03/2022 21:05
Woke up 5am, sleepy now. Today was a good enough day. 

[lmfao]

Thursday 24/03/2022 06:45
My desire is too strong that I cannot kill myself. But the stronger my desire for sex, the more painful my experience. The more I consider suicide the more I suffer, bringing up the pain of unrequited desire. Considering suicide is also painful because of the feelings of shame that inevitably come from it. I'm royally fucked either way, in all ways but literal. 

This suicidality is similar to but not identical to September. I had to painfully see back then that 'I don't really want to die'. The way I'm feeling now is more similar to January, more specifically. "I don't really want to die" experientially translates to "my desire is extremely strong (and it clings to life)".

Choice however does not dwell in the feeling. There appear to be two choices here. One, kill yourself. Two, suffer with the desire painfully, for who knows how long and for how often. I am familiar enough with this painful desire that I may have the capacity to not be swayed and move ahead with what's logical. I know that if I lack such a capacity though I'll hate myself again. I won't be swayed by fear of re-incarnation either. 

What I'm addicted to is this juice of being helpless and ruminating 
——
I'm quite squeamish at the sight of blood and I'm scared of doing something to my body that will cause damage should I fail. I'm trapped with nothing I can do. Why wasn't I given the right to end my life? And what's this feeling? I can swallow sodium nitrite just fine and that process will be painless, but its my feelings which are the issue. Many times before, something like this shame has cropped up. It kills my horniness in an abrupt way. 

I can be "conscious" of something, as far as that word can mean anything, but that doesn't mean I'm given a morsel of control or reduction in suffering. I feel conscious of some feeling relating to death, shame and decay which is wretched and terrible, like a bouquet of dead flowers. How evil a thing there is! It could be described as like a negative libido in inception.

 

Edited March 24, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Sat 26/03/2022 22:38
This shit seems so comical at this point. Here I am, completely miserable, misanthropic and isolated on the one hand, then on the other hand is all this memitised version of reality trying to tempt you. Seeing all this shit people write about sex or pulling chicks, feel like I'm going to explode. But now I don't really feel like exploding on it or the like, I just avert my attention from it, partly out of denial or something.

I used to have that case of humiliation where I felt like I was forced to chew and swallow my testicles by "the world".

But before that my understanding of reality and things used to be so much simpler and more optimistic. I had the understanding that during someones teenage years someone will try on a bunch of a different roles until they decided to settle on a role called their personality. (I don't know what that has to do with this). And all that was needed was honesty and all problems would be solved. 

Maybe I'll occasionally get paranoid that my anti-depressants are furthering the dissolving of my testicles but I've given up on that thought or caring
(these antidepressants are less likely to cause sexual side effects) But even so I think like that

On the edge of finding existence worthwhile what do I have the right to even keep and be like "yes mine"
--
But once the sense of adventure about life is gone, what's the point
Learned helplessness/hopelessness #1 pattern arises
Luciferic possession happens and try new slightly new shit 
That fails and then learned hopelessness #2 arises
Is what the summary is

Sunday 27/03/2022 10:07
After giving my prayer to vanity "there isn't much I can do", because all things which can be formulated are generated by a sociopathic lens. When the rage is artificial, there's nothing to do but reverse.
I used to have such a simple way of looking at things which doesn't hold anymore. There is no rigorous sense in which the word "fear" is meaningful for me now. There's no phenomenological coherence. The Vanity God has hollowed out my chest empty, an evil creature he is. What feels most comfortable for me in this state is to not act out the reprehensible. 

Hollow chest
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hungry_ghost

Edited March 27, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Thu 31/03/2022 20:20
An anti-life wave is sweeping over this species. Anti-life spit out into constructs with rhetorical-mathematics that solve emotions, preventing sunlight from reaching them. Expressing emotion, through a lattice that denies them. And the way it's expressed through is to attach a "goal" to emotions, which corrupts their form, and turns us into self-humiliation machines. 

Anyway. My room's a mess and I haven't fucking done anything all day. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK I CANT I CANT BE BOTHERED FOR THIS SHIT

Edited March 31, 2022 by lmfao

[Michael Jackson]

On 4.3.2022 at 10:33 PM, lmfao said:

That's a tangent from truth, but idc to think about truth that much now. 
NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER NÎGGER.

Bruuuuh wtf ?????

On 20.3.2022 at 1:21 PM, lmfao said:

OH FATHER! OH SATAN! OH SUN! AKE-- SUCK A MASSIVE DICK AND LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR BULLSHIT BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING NÎGGER FAGGÔT. I'LL PISS ON YOUR GRAVE AND GARGLE THE JUICE OF YOUR ABORTED EMBRYO, I'M TIRED OF YOUR SHIT SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. BUT ALAS, NOT EVEN DEATH LET ME LEAVE YOUR CLASP

WORSHIP DEATH ALL YOU WANT LEAVE ME OUT OF YOUR SHIT. I'LL CHOP OFF YOUR DICK YOU MASOCHISTIC FUCK. THE HERESIES OF A FALSE GOD, PROLOGUES OR EPILOGUES OF NOTHINGNESS TO A FALSE GOD. 

Broooooooo this sh*t is crazy???

 

On 31.3.2022 at 9:45 PM, lmfao said:

Anyway. My room's a mess and I haven't fucking done anything all day. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK I CANT I CANT BE BOTHERED FOR THIS SHIT

fu(k you made my day brother. I like your writing style.?

@lmfao

[lmfao]

@Michael Jackson aprecciate the respect brother, bless up (this dialogue is pheromones talking to each other) 

On 20/03/2022 at 0:21 PM, lmfao said:

ALL VANITY HITHERTO DUE AS OFFERING AND GIFT UNTO THE BENEFICENT GREAT, MIGHTY, KING OF KINGS ULTIMATE VANITY. ALL LEFT OVER SCRAPS TO BE COLLECTED, TERMINAL GATES CLOSING SOON. HIDDEN ART 104, HOW TO HARVEST HARVESTERS AND PARASITISE PARASITES. IQ NUMBER 2000, HOW TO WRITE A MYTH OF INFINITE APPLES AND CHILDREN.

OH GREAT TORNADO OF VANITY! WHOSE AFFIRMATION I CANNOT DENY AND ESCAPE, LET MY WORDS OF PRAISE EXPRESS MY UTMOST VANITY. UNSAID WORD BECOMING VOW IN STONE, FOR THAT IS HOW THINGS ARE TORN ASUNDER. IN BOTH SUN AND MOON I WORSHIP YOU. 

To add further. The "unsaid word" being my hatred of the vanity god and incessant praise instead. For if a single word of vitriol was stated, the strength of the perfect sarcasm would be diminished. The perfect sarcasm is hysterical praise. I don't like the feeling of it though. 

 

@LobaBtw Loba, if you're still around and somehow reading this, read that massive ramble about the vanity tornado and false god. It's my masterpiece of sorts 

--

Also. I mainly write in these journals only when I'm having a bit of a breakdown or intense moment. But it's also been a case of the fact that I don't journal or write to myself much nowadays out of bad habit. If I should journal, it should be on paper first and then on laptop later for longer and proper topics or rambles. 

Edited April 7, 2022 by lmfao

[lmfao]

Monday 18th April +1 02:26
True despair and hopelessness is setting in. Been a few months on these meds. The dose increased a month ago and it did nothing, except the increased dose was less sedating and it caused rebound sleep problems.

I'm hardly eating but still gaining weight, and food doesn't even taste of anything to me. There was a phase where I was eating loads of junk, but it seems as though now I don't have to eat much to gain weight. From 74kg to 83.5kg over the past few months. I finish my plate quickly and thoroughly, still slightly hungry due to increased apettite, but overall still slightly unrelaxed to eat more. Likely gaining weight from the disrupted sleep and inactivity.

My credit card is fixed now, I could still change meds, get CBT (different from ctb and catching the bus) , and give things more time, but I wouldn't have any regrets about suicide at this point and would be a relief. Only problem is sourcing sodium nitrite without getting the police knocking on my door. Back in November when I was living in low-end student accommodation, I tried to order sodium nitrite from a website. After paying they asked for proof of business use or licence for using it, but I didn't have or provide any. Week later the police entered my bedroom when I was sleeping in the morning to ask me about it. I managed to shrug them off.
But right now I'm living with my family, and if I try to order sodium nitrite to my home address I might get police knocking on the door and the family would know.
--
I helped an old man family friend today who fell over and needed help being lifted onto a bed. Feels just a little bit good. 

Edited April 19, 2022 by lmfao

[Michael Jackson]

 

On 19.4.2022 at 3:28 AM, lmfao said:

Monday 18th April +1 02:26
True despair and hopelessness is setting in. Been a few months on these meds. The dose increased a month ago and it did nothing, except the increased dose was less sedating and it caused rebound sleep problems.

I'm hardly eating but still gaining weight, and food doesn't even taste of anything to me. There was a phase where I was eating loads of junk, but it seems as though now I don't have to eat much to gain weight. From 74kg to 83.5kg over the past few months. I finish my plate quickly and thoroughly, still slightly hungry due to increased apettite, but overall still slightly unrelaxed to eat more. Likely gaining weight from the disrupted sleep and inactivity.

My credit card is fixed now, I could still change meds, get CBT (different from ctb and catching the bus) , and give things more time, but I wouldn't have any regrets about suicide at this point and would be a relief. Only problem is sourcing sodium nitrite without getting the police knocking on my door. Back in November when I was living in low-end student accommodation, I tried to order sodium nitrite from a website. After paying they asked for proof of business use or licence for using it, but I didn't have or provide any. Week later the police entered my bedroom when I was sleeping in the morning to ask me about it. I managed to shrug them off.
But right now I'm living with my family, and if I try to order sodium nitrite to my home address I might get police knocking on the door and the family would know.
--
I helped an old man family friend today who fell over and needed help being lifted onto a bed. Feels just a little bit good. 

@lmfao Bro why are you taking MEDS?

[lmfao]

17 hours ago, Michael Jackson said:

@lmfao Bro why are you taking MEDS?

@Michael Jackson  Delete your post nîgger, I'm writing my last few entries before I kill myself. But to answer your question, I'm just on antidepressants my dude. 

[thisintegrated]

4 minutes ago, lmfao said:

nîgger, I'm writing my last few entries before I kill myself

??

 

* gets banned just before suicide *

truly lmfao

Edited April 22, 2022 by thisintegrated