I read your blog

A coincidence, it is.

I haven't blogged much and neither have you, but you have a new entry recently and I somehow read it.

I do wonder if you would stumble upon mine.

Do you feel this way, that when your mind conceives a silent language, the only thing that stands between you and the truth is an agnostic state born from the openness of all things possible?

If we could be handed or could seek the rawness of reality, every single bit of truth uncensored, and realize that protective political correctness is denying and plundering us of the authenticity that could truly make our existences worthwhile....

There is a world inside, one so rich and one so vivid that everything else dulls in comparison. The world that is, what it provides, if it does not feed what is already inside, is only rife with worthless tabloid, hearsay and things that could burn and die for all we -- or is it I -- care.

Occasionally there is delight in enjoying the simple pleasures -- though we know, it is not the simple pleasure that truly brought us happiness.

But that, there is a tiny sense of normalcy we know we can never have.

Read a comic

The doctor thinks I have a psychosomatic problem.

I don't know, I don't think so and I don't care.

I just finished reading a comic, and the ending is giving me so many mixed feelings.

How is everything connected?

I don't know, but maybe I care.

Sometimes I think my life already ended a long time ago and all I have left now is just a mental camera with a broken tape.

You know?

At the end of the day, the world condones our existence, but it will take from us. Nothing belongs to us.

The world, it'll keep moving on, and leave us all behind.

When I Come Back Here

...It never seems to be about something good.

I've been figuring out a lot of things I still don't know whether I wish I knew, or not.

I don't know how to describe to you that time seems to have stopped for me.

Weary

When my energy is low, everything looks like a tragedy to me.

Every bit of disconnection, of separation and of negativity accumulates into something...sad.

Sometimes I'm entirely aware of the strange way I put things, as if something catastrophic has happened, when it's just something...insignificant.

Sometimes though, I'm painfully aware that I'm making myself something people understand, because I know any other way would land myself in a series of judgments that would alienate others...me, further.

Recently it's getting harder to verbalize what's bothering me. Though, I think, it is disintegration that's happening around me that makes things so hard to reconcile and accept, or even tolerate.

I'm not sure why I feel this inhibition. Like how it has been since as long as I was conscious of things, there's a resignation that the world never stops for anyone. Adherence to the order of the world, with a kind of dryness that lets me wonder why I keep myself intact.

Why does intensity drive people away?

Why then do I avoid intensity outside myself?

So much on my mind, so little coherence.

And the fact, that you can never get out of misunderstandings, because people desire that.

When will the storm calm?

What's in my mind today

I feel like there's a segment of my brain that's damaged
Permanently damaged
Like there's something that causes a disconnection between what is commonly understood and me
I've often wondered about the minds of those who conveniently ignore reality
Going about their daily lives, as if the errors of concept have no consequence
On this thing we call reality
But why is it that our experiences are so real to ourselves
And yet have little consequence
Why is it that there's always a major disconnection in the world at large
Perhaps brain damage is more common than I think
Why is it that I am always waiting for real trauma
But hoping that it never happens
Why is it that I'm attracted to all things tragic and sad
But sometimes feel complete apathy
Is apathy a feeling
Is that a feeling
I despise the unsaid statements made
When another pretends to willfully ignore the plights of others
What do I despise
What I despise is that lack of empathy towards the plight
To ignore the plights of others is simple
Just don't empathize
What I'm talking about
Is the lack of defense and control
To block out these sensations that come to you
That make you wonder who's you, what belongs to you
And then you feel a certain numbness
Apathy, that's what we call it
A strange paradox
Between empathizing and then ignoring the plights
Not a pretense of ignoring the plights when empathy has taken place
But a pretense that you have no empathy
And then it creeps in a time you don't expect
Numbed and disturbed at the emotions that stir
Not yours, mind you, theirs
Almost as real as your own
Make no statements
Staring at pain and suffering in the face
Stuck in a limbo
Last night I dreamt that I was on a cruise
That I vomited
That I was under a curse
That I would die in three days
That I had somehow offended a supernatural being
That the crew on the ship were watching how the curse would unfold on me
That they knew why I was under a curse
That even I realized I was under a curse
And somehow, that I thought I would either reverse the damage
A silent contemplation
A quiet resignation to the situation
Feeling the fear around me stronger than my own
I'm complete rational as I write this
Why then do I write this
Mere catharsis
Catharsis
I'm done writing