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4.22 - faith

How come they can claim the truth over my salvation? And how come atheists claim to be better than them? Aren’t we the same?

Fundamentalists are great at making meaning. They excel at connecting the dots between one bad event and one thing that creates suspicion. Christians love causality, they should be statisticians. To them, nothing is falsifiable. Everything supports their delusion. My anger is my lack of faith. My need for connection is my lack of faith. My disconnection and loneliness and self-criticism is my lack of faith. I can’t win. I should have titled this ‘On Spiritual Bypassing’.

I can’t argue to support and prove a point. I can only argue to understand.

4.21

I believe in the bible.

Not in your bible, but in mine.

4.20

Saying ‘no’ may make them angry, and saying ‘yes’ will make you infinitely more

4.19

And when you’re not being socially acceptable

Just know that your heart is

And always will be

4.18

I never realized how sad I could be

Until one day I really was

4.175

You know our society has something wrong with it when you need to make other beings suffer in order to show people that it is important to love one another.

4.17

all i have is on the tip of my tongue. all i can taste is the wanting of what could be.

4.165 - on power

the only reason you’re not like that is because you don’t have it yet

4.16

what if i told you that you needed someone to understand more than you needed someone with knowledge?

4.155

truth will not free you from your past

4.15

I’ve been so gone recently. I’ve been anxious, walking around, pacing, not knowing what to do. Separated from my body. Putting everything in my head. There’s too much judgment and too little creativity. Too much compromise. Too stifled.

4.45

if you asked me what my favourite colour was, how could it not be all of them

4.14 Bucocksi

I love anachronism. I love being stimulated. Like when my dick gets hard. I hate feeling dry and hung up and being with it. I want to be out of it. Only the outsider really knows what’s going on. And what's the point of even trying? Just do it. Don't even try to be it. You be it, and that's the end of the story. Everything else is a roundabout route to being authentic. Don't be afraid of being weak. Be an outsider. Be weak. Fuck what an image presents to you.

All aesthetic is propaganda and you know that. I would be surprised if you didn't, just go on anyone's instagram who has any aesthetic or any good follower-to-following ratio. Don't flatter their ego by aspiring to be them. Don't even flatter yourself by posting like them, with their 35mm and their Kodaks and their desire to be greater than what they are. Because it's all a facade. You know that too. And to pretend that you're not a facade is the whole problem. Because you’ll end up seeing that the lighting is not that good as it was in the picture and their face has more blemishes than it seemed like on instagram. If that is the reality, then why does it disappoint me to see them in real life?

Break yourself free from the propaganda of consumerism. Let yourself feel empty for a while. Let the cup be filled by itself. By religion, by family, by solitude, by creativity, who knows. Maybe by the time you realize how toxic you really are, you will start doing. To do. It's toxic to try. Commit one hundred percent of yourself to something and be a vessel for something or something else. Really try. You would being doing yourself a disservice to not try.

4.13

I was thinking about integrity the other day and what it means to show it. Honestly, I think integrity is overrated. The learning process itself is based on an unwavering commitment to mistakes. Along with fucking up, learning is changing perspective and changing your moral stance on how you feel about shit. So, obviously, as you journey through different viewpoints and feelings about things, you’re not gonna be showing integrity all the time. That’s the point of it all. You keep adapting and you keep shifting and you constantly are changing with the times. Not even the times of the world, but changing within your own evolution.

I dislike evolution, because it implies improvement toward a destination, or to some end. To evolve implies that the ‘before’ version of myself was somehow inferior to the ‘now’ and present version of me. I think that’s fucked up. Why is the older me better than the younger me? Because I’m more experienced in making mistakes and learning and showing (or not showing) integrity in my life does not give me any higher ground to anyone. Experience doesn’t mean anything, and neither does getting older. Sure, it’s more on your plate, but fuck the people who believe in better-ness or worse-ness. That shit is overrated. You’re just older and have participated longer in this whole gambit than I have, but implied superiority is some fucking trash.

I’m talking as though there is someone berating me behind my back and I’m offering some rebuttal, like I’m some scared child, but I’ve been feeling a ways about this for a while. These ideas and feelings and intuitions are existing on a systemic and societal level, and on a familial level, too, with my parents and friends, but still. I’m just trying to make it. And not die. Before I’m done with this I have the image come to mind of the child-me versus the adult-me, or man-child-me. How dare myself say that the child version of me was less good at life just because they were more innocent?

Fuck arrogance.

4.12

being white doesn’t negate my suffering

but it sure feels like it does

im sorry i feel that way

and ill cause no fuss

im over love and into capitalism

or the dismantling of it

with my iphone notes and my silent rage

are you a vessel of love

ive been inspired by a million sad rides home on the bus

so i will love you but i’m in no rush

i’ll be inspired by a million pieces of myself on the floor

by a mirror, time gone by, im a whore

catharsis couldn’t come too easy

just like me

sacrifice myself

and garner sympathy

im sick and getting sick

of my sleepy suburb face

i wish sometimes the car wouldn’t stop at the roundabout but in my disgusting face

i wish the tears would be absorbed by my guitar and i’d be done with this singing shit

so i wouldn’t be evaluated by my performance on it

4.11 - love is not relative

i feel hopeless about love. i swipe and i swipe and i say ‘hi’ to everyone i find interesting but to no avail. i’m either not attracted to them or they’re boring or i alienate them or they have a boyfriend already or i fuck it up somehow and i chicken out or they’re too young.

i’m tired and scared. late at night i feel this way. uncertain and jaded and afraid that someone is hiding behind my phone and i’m just wasting away and i’m afraid of my loneliness. i’m afraid im going to implode and that i’m going to suffocate from my own consumption of media and food and entertainment and conversations.

silence is the straw that breaks the camels back. i wish sometimes i had a partner to love me and absolve me of my loneliness. i know everyone else feels this way. all the single people do. i want stream of consciousness and i want immediacy and want to feel connected and at ease. i want to be like a baby receiving unlimited pleasure with no setbacks. i want the confidence to express myself fluidly without setback, either. life feels like it’s crushing me. no amount of grounding exercises or thought records or miracle questions or psychoeducation about cognitive distortions will get me out the life im beginning to carve out for myself.

i eat and i eat and i eat more and i feel full and i eat till i’m sick and i eat till i’m nauseous because it makes my brain feel good constantly. i’ve lost any sense of moderation. i feel lost. i’m a lost sheep. christianity won’t save me. god and the bible won’t save. i feel like a culture won’t save me. a community will. i don’t have an answer but i have hypotheses. i say that i’m fat to my friends and they scoff because on the outside im as skinny as can be but on the inside i am a glutton that is shielding their real core. i have a gluttonous mentality when it comes to living life. i fast i binge i go everywhere all at once and i want to consume every idea at once. i want to be at the top of every hierarchy and be famous and rich and be loved and grow and sprout and flourish. i wish i was attracted to the girls my friends think are attractive. i wish the pretty boys who i found pretty would also find me pretty but i struggle and i know it’s gonna go one day. when i’m ugly, will you still love me? when i’m not around, will you still love me? when i’m rotten from all my gluttony, can you still be there for me? i love you to the end of the earth and back and i would fall off any cliff for you just so i could hold you for a couple seconds before we both die.

horror movies corrupt me. i shouldn’t watch them. yet i want to. and yet i do so. hookups make me feel awful. but i do them. and they feel impossible when i’m with them. love is not relative.

love is precise. love is exactly what i want it to be and i want it to envelope and absorb you till you can understand and trust me without your heart shattering.

love is exclusive. to you.

it is not relative or free flowing, it is 100% concentrated. love bubbles on my lips because i can’t express it any other way.

3.86 verbage

I care about you

Maybe it’s just a hyperbole

But I can’t express it

Not even verbally

For once just trust me

That this is only a pitstop

On a journey

On a journey of self importance

We ought to just give up

And consume

Until we can’t anymore

And then some more

Until these activities consume us

Because I’m eating so much

Because I’m vapid

Consuming

Until my taste buds are numb

When at night

Every night

I’m always full enough

And I’ve always had my fill

For the day after

Abstain during the day

Then I start again at night

And enable the shame to increase exponentially

It comes to a point

Where I will only floss at night

Because I don’t want to remember

The shame between my teeth

I chew gum

To feel pure afterward

To no avail

But you give me that

Spoken word

That’s worth speaking

I feel like a million shattered pieces of something

That pulled together for a greater purpose

I’m tired of waiting around

For my next shift to start

I’ll do something

It’ll be for you

Stop sitting

Get in gear

It’s only these girls that love me

That see something in my music

And my singing voice

But I like your subtle wordplay

And your direct archery

My intuition is out of touch

And feelings cloud good quality

While I can’t stop

While I taste sorrow of another time

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