grilledpease

I write n stuff // My suspicions are tiresome

[grilledpeaze]

The reasons I am alone keep me from going insane. They are my only company. Without reason, I may have no sanity.

I took all my mirrors off their walls; only then I had looked around and saw a self I could no longer avoid. With this much more malleable reflection banished from my sights, what I now see is who I’ve truly become. Absent from any excuse, I feel the weight of all my actions levied upon me. Left my home has remorse and her deceptions. From here on out, to all of my future pursuits, I am inexcusable.

Our dreams no longer streak across the madness that has overtaken our skies. They surround me, with little where else to go, they surround me. They swarm in the bitter taste of rejection like maggots who were called upon to a feast by the aroma of a carcass that is you and your reliability. My dreams feast on me if they stay in my sight long enough, they make me the accused, and by my guilts I will perish.

Visions of the self induce processes of insecurity.

[grilledpeaze]

I mistake feelings for actions, and then I am disturbed with why no one seems to feel the same ways I do. Even though despite how I feel, I often act separately.

Stillness is the antidote to lunacy.

The stunt drugs and psychedelics can cause is observable in people unless you yourself are under the influence. The lone cause of your ignorance is often your own involvement.

Its as if it's impossible for things to not transpire into routine - unrealistic.

Everyone has a routine and routines are not choices, only somes routines are not so beneficial by our personal standards from our personal perspectives, hygienic or unhygienic, to become much of either, you must have followed a routine, something constant you could not have possibly chosen consciously. Intellectual or unintelligent alike, each a routine the other cannot seem to follow.

Hypocrites are the scapegoats of the modern era.

[grilledpeaze]

Predetermined existence and with that unconsciousness, is not a leeway to carelessness, it’s transformed into hopefulness - hope for certainty.

The purpose of death is far more important than any debates had over the aftermath.

Relief is an exposure I am not delicate to.

If I really wanted to go do that, I wouldn’t be so content on sitting here with contemplation.

[grilledpeaze]

I miss E**** so much sometimes it hurts. It not only hurts, it’s transformed my action. A part of me always holds an expectation towards her return. And at every turn I take down into the isle of any grocery store, I wonder if I’d ever be pleasantly surprised enough just to see her face again, even if it meant amongst a bustling crowd and only for a nano fraction of a moment can I capture her beauty streaking across the starless skies of my eyes once more, I would be blessed; or to hear her laughter echo and reverberate against those alloyed halls, like her own unique pledge to joyfulness, what a privilege - a part of me is always prepared to be something of a sight for her if her eyes ever wander into where I’ve been laying. Then when I see it in others, that face,

I mistake my panic as rage, rather than acknowledging my disappointment.

[grilledpeaze]

What’s happens is inevitable, you have to be able to accept what happens to survive - Acceptance is an inward adaptation.

You don’t have to see to be able to feel, but you have to feel to be able to see.

Relaxedness pains me with softness as much as tensenesses strains pain me.

Prayer was the quietest form of scream.

Silence is the best answer to disturbance.

[grilledpeaze]

I once molded a self so unbelievable that no one, not even myself, could convince me it ever existed.

For whatever life means, I mean a million different other things.

It’s comfortable to think you’re hopeless, having hope is hard; but having hope is what it takes to keep living - true hopelessness is surely an instantaneous death.

The first cut hurts the most, unfamiliarity hurts so we often stray from it, no matter its occasionally inconsequential or beneficial consequences.

I could never search for truth in anything because I could never stop searching for whether or not I'm right about it all. I can find truth here, but it’s never what I’m searching for.

[grilledpeaze]

Speech, with its many variants included, is an unprovable work.

A wish is a privileged act. For my wishes to exist as nothing more, I must have unsustainable comfortability. Unstable so that I fear to act on my wishes if it means I could potentially lose my comfort.

I consummate my paranoia, if the world came back now, I could be releaved. But this chilling loneliness, it marks my hesitations clearly, I’m reckless abandon. The chirping birds sound unfamiliar amongst the hollowness of this home, what once was a sign of glimmering memories to come sound out to me now as reminders of the silence I had gotten used to.

Companionship is a security which choice does not deserve.

If a soul is left alone for long enough, it makes its own visitors. Ever hollow, I imagine a crowd of listeners.

If I can only imagine, then I should not be the one to make your excuses.

The almighty remembers his guilt the most.

Thought is a war, your only path to victory is to not participate.

You don’t have to have faith if you know.

The longer you do something the more it becomes the condition of your nature.

[grilledpeaze]

I used to consider how everyone else felt only for my sake.

You acknowledge less of what you need to do by doing more of what you want to do.

There is no honest victory if theft is a lie.

Kings only exist to appeal to a status which women adore.

I feel forever splintered by my instinct & my desires. Everything from this earth which I desire holds within in it the ability to persecute my instincts. I could not foster any neutrality from where I’m wedged between the stars.

Diplomatic mortality is unlikely where wants meet needs.

Perhaps if he could under what he needs he would want much less. Or is a want necessary to construct a need. Could I get what I need without ever wanting it?

Desires are made as a compromise, to the stress of necessity.

[grilledpeaze]

Humans believe everywhere they cannot reach must be heavenly.

[grilledpeaze]

Journal Entries.

The rate of probability always stays the same, undefined — undeterred by our determinable’s.

What the moral society will never do, it will never do, is take.

Perhaps if he could understand what he needs, he would want much less.

Or is a want necessary to construct a need?

Could I get what I need without ever wanting it?

The only question I ask about this, I am so deeply concerned in understanding the abilities & limitations of change. Can you change instinct itself, or could you only ever momentarily defy it?

How do you get yourself to need to do something without it needing to be done for yourself?

Wether we rationalize this trade otherworldly or materially, man is secretly selfish in everything he gives.

The only thing you ever owed in life is your death.

Everything apart from death is life’s suggestion.

Even to the religious life becomes a purpose to death.

I’m not much different am I?

I just believe it should be an earthly resignation.

Culture is influenced by a mixture of what you have and have to do.

Im convinced my impotence will be remarked as historic among my theorems. Like all those words exist impossibly, as if I defy the odds of my own actions.

You are already dead if you do not have consequence.

It’s as if you never lived.

What is consequence? Something irreplaceable.

[grilledpeaze]

- Me

[grilledpeaze]

Beauty is a silencer.

[grilledpeaze]

When I am momentary, pragmatic, I feel like a rudiment passage of life. Defined in instances — fragmented figure.

Excused, I feel excused by a right to an intimacy with my passionate instances. I am unaccountable to a wider prospect; how dare I be so lackadaisical.

[grilledpeaze]

Man should theoretically always be able to redirect his subconscious within the vehement efforts of his own consciousness: Only if he can firstly manage to convince his subconscious that this new direction is something of a necessity; otherwise his subconscious and thereby his conscious will refuse to act in total compliance of his yearnings, in some aspect it becomes a situation where if you’re subconscious cannot bring itself to need this then even your conscious deliberations will be opposed to your innermost desires; the subconscious’s mandatory’s — this reveals itself to be a much more daunting task than if you were simply to attempt abstaining from the subconscious’s determinisms all together; living a fully conscious life, dragging yourself away from, by the gripping of your wrists and ankles from your most apparent cravings. It is more realistic and practical that you will endlessly struggle in going against your subconscious rather than overtaking it in such an enormous endeavor of persuasion.

Whatever.

[grilledpeaze]

There was a burning gathering.

Oh how I wish it were silent all the time. You don’t know what I want to say, you say things so that I can say what you want me to say. You’re leading me somewhere I don’t want to be, tricky people. Oh how I wish, with apathetic wishes, that it would be silent all the time.

[grilledpeaze]

Inevitably, in every erection where there is some version of conceptually complex civilization, the people in those society’s end up using one another as tools for some malicious personal benefit. Exploitation is the nature of being, use and abuse of any system it can seemingly manufacture. No creature has ever managed to exist in this world without taking or relying on something else to give up partial equity from its existence to maintain its own.

The creature makes its bed with the bones of the unknowing; the less capable; where the weak die the strong survive — it’s the harsh unavoidable truth we have to face when attempting to guide any of our moral constructs. We cannot live without exploitation, so should we even live at all? Any of us? The universe with all of its children are nothing but all consuming wretches of beasts, ever taking.

Explain to me how this is moral sanctity; how you could ever prevent existence from being reprimanded with its nature. Only with God, in his arms, in his fictitious forgivenesses can man seemingly ever make solitude with the sinful nature he has concocted in being.

[grilledpeaze]

I’m gratified in my own amazements — infatuation is one of the grandest leaders; trumped only by a sense for rationality.

You must understand it to its fullest extent of comprehension while also being able to separate yourself from it to be in total control of it. If one of either of these conditions are not met, the ‘it’ still apprehends the ‘you’; it’s impossible to separate yourself from something you do not understand, it’s impossible to understand something you are not separated from.

All beings should have a capacity to confided solidarity.

Nobody cares what you want, only what they want; what they think they need.

What you do is/what you have: it’s either you or it’s not.

The longer I live, the weirder my revelations become.

My life will be perspective hunting.

The most bone chilling observation I’ve ever made about the reality I live in, is noticing there will always be changes coming to it.

It’s only as good as its next and last moments.