i have this acute dysphoria toward myself and other tangible things. i forget what i am sometimes. i forget what i really look like, and when i remember, it’s irrelevant and troublesome to relate it to anything that will give me the desire to keep remembering. i often forget that things are happening. i often stop and feel like i’m away from myself, like i’m set far back inside my skull watching myself move on its own. i forget that i can touch things. it doesn’t make me want to die. dying is for those who are too much of the world than they can take and wish to escape from. i am here and without connection. my body is the imaginary number that cannot be graphed on a plane
it’s been four years
and i’m still having dreams about you
even though they’re innocent, i feel disgusting
it doesn’t even make sense anymore. i must be possessed by the idea rather than the person. there is no other explanation
i order people around
i want to do such things that make our scene look like one of those art exhibitions. wine and bottles where they shouldn’t be. too much emphasis on the curve and poise more than actual pleasure
pulling and pushing rather than getting anything done. cyclic delight without end
i don’t think i’ve ever admitted this before but i lose my temper a lot when i’m doing math homework
i’m mostly just angry at myself, i make so many errors. what’s wrong with me
why am i an idiot, why can’t i do this
i understand it and i know what to do
i’m just dyslexic or something. it makes me so angry. so angry, unbearably angry
everyone’s angry at me because i hardly like any movies
well excuse me for not being satisfied with every piece of shit that passes through the tv or whatever
i am a tough customer
to claim that science is checked by religion is absolute bullshit
somehow without religion we’d be morally nihilistic or a bunch of social darwinists? i don’t fucking think so. all intelligent organisms possess empathy. it is innate, to care about other people. children aren’t born with adverse predispositions toward outside groups. hatred is taught. empathy isn’t taught. it is instinct. we are social creatures. it is the reason why we cry when we see other people cry. when we see sad movies, we cry not because it is happening to us, but because we are seeing other people in pain. we evolved to take care of each other.
to suppose that we need institutions of delusion to keep morality in check is utterly pathetic. i really don’t think our species only acts out of kindness because they fear the wrath of an angry god who will punish them if they don’t
i don’t need to have the promise of an afterlife or pretend like there’s someone watching me to know right from wrong. it’s really insulting to insinuate otherwise
New storyline, using my moleskine for its development
Universe is fantasy, influence is Hindu, Buddhist, Mongolian, middle eastern, Indian, Chinese, ancient egyptian, etc use culture blends to create new cultures and language.
Wheel of life, idols, lots of gold, black, red, divans, rugs, smoke, lots of ocean and something called “miasmas”. ‘Beware the mark of the beasts, engraved on the palm’
“The Devil in Bloom”
Protagonist is powerful woman from Indian-Mongolian inspired region, incarnation of one of nine war idols
Will posts moleskine sketches of maps, clothes, characters, items, etc
i hear mice in my head
A lot of people I’ve encountered from high school are falling victim to the notorious freshman fifteen. My weight hasn’t changed at all, probably because I still take walks and I’ve improved my diet but its still sort of scary, like this looming reminder that our youthful metabolisms are fleeting. We’re getting older and we have to actually put more effort into our health. I know other people have struggled with their weight more than others, and I mean no harm, I’m giving my personal circumstance and thoughts on the matter of aging and its effects
