I am a ghost of all my temporary ambitions— and yet the hollowness of every transitional period intoxicates me!
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever
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Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
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RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Discoholic 🪩
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shark vs the universe

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@lethalpsychopomp
I am a ghost of all my temporary ambitions— and yet the hollowness of every transitional period intoxicates me!
If I take a moment and lay on the Grass, I can feel the vibrations of wild horses stampeding in Mongolia. I can feel the vibrations of bees landing on flowers in Portugal. I can feel the rhythmic step of men and women dancing Samba in Brazil —and if I try really hard —in the quiet of the night and through the whispering wind, I can feel his heart beating at the same tempo as mine.
I'm not suicidal and I'm not entranced by the tragic trope of self demise, but I yearn for that eternal chill.
Right now stabbing my self sounds like it would feel satisfying. It's appealing. I know it'll hurt, but the sensation of the cool metal caressing my insides, places where I've never been able to consciously feel, sounds mesmerizing. It's like I'm living in a constant state of an internal "hot flash" and all I need is the sweet kiss from cool steel on my liver; kidney, stomach, intestine, bladder, heart. I'm not suicidal and I'm not entranced by the tragic trope of self demise, but I yearn for that eternal chill.
You live a life of compulsion. Your world is filled with musts and must nots. I can't live in a world where satisfaction comes with compulsory solutions. I need to track my reasonings. I need to follow the red thread that trails through my brain — I need to dissect my thoughts and understand why I think the way I do! Your way of life is rigid, consisting of do's and dont's. Just and unjust. Whereas mine is continuous and connected. Not everything is wrong and not everything is right. The most heinous crime can be justified and the purest can be tainted.
I feel bad for bugs being born into this world the disgusting creatures they are, but I simultaneously envy their freedom, unique beauty and their innate coexistence and reliance with everything natural
I hate bugs because I want to be one :(
Life is a human standing on a shoreline looking out at the ocean and screaming into the void. There is no reason— that scream will change nothing—but it makes us feel better.
This thought was prompted by my research into the Nag hammadi scrolls. Its a series of gnostic texts that were found by a 14 year old Egyptian boy in 1945. It wasn't turned over to anyone till 1946, and in that year his mother used some of the text-filled parchment as kindling. Ancient scrolls and scripture, lost to the elements. Life goes on. We are all subjected to the decay of time. Nothing is permanent, and that scream into the vast, indifferent void becomes both an act of defiance and an embrace of vulnerability. The hope that someone might be listening keeps us sane.
Amazingly, despite this knowledge that everything will be lost to time, it doesn't stop us from attempting to save it. Perhaps, paradoxically, this knowledge of impermanence is what drives our desire to preserve things in the first place.
In 2020-2021, I was convinced we were gonna get nuked by Russia and so, in attempt to protect knowledge, I took every copy I had of the Bible, every copy of the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, Upanishad, Tao Te Ching and tried to save it. Wrapped them in plastic, put it in a bag and hid it in my bedside drawer furthest from the window and shielded by my bed. All to protect it from any nuclear fallout. That hope that maybe something will be the exception to times effect takes over.
And there lays the remnants of pages held to the greatest esteem by billions of people. Left to become ashes.
I'm an angry person because my will to live has been restored and manifests in a fiery hatred for many things
Now who the hell would vandalize a city sign like this
A lot of our own interpretations of God are based on the humanization of Him (the pronoun should be non-gendered, but for ease of separation, I'll refer to It as "Him"). We assign human emotions to encapsulate who God is in reference to how we feel about religion as a whole. If we view religion as purifying and wholesome, our perception of Him will reflect that. And if our view of Him is hostile and tyrannical, our perceptions will reflect that as well.
God is a transcendental being that emerges far beyond any human rationalization, and yet we ascribe mundane definitions to Him, thus deifying ourselves. Is this detrimental to our perceptions or beneficial? Does that separation between divine and mortal need a barrier, or are we all "God" in our own way? Does equating our personhood to that of a Supreme Being flaw us; and if we are capable of being flawed are we really divine at all?
Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.
This is what I repeated to myself as I was laying in my bed. It wasn't a command, it was a plea.
"please get up! Right foot then left. You can't stay like this! Make your bed, you'll feel better. It's not hard. One small calculated move at a time..." encapsulated by two small words. Get. Up.
I was begging myself to do something. To get ready. All the while the anxiety kept building. The tingling sensation in my fingertips and teeth intensified. And I couldn't stop it.
At this moment I had a scary thought. As I was laying there, seemingly emotionless I thought to myself "do I need help?"
Yeah... A scary thought...
The Flame
By MRYM
The flame
As it holds the purifying ways
Repelling my sins,
my devious shames
I plead And plead
(and plead
and plead)
For the merciful need;
The fame-ous way
You say
"I protect, I save"
Your poems
Your promises
Of redeemable, irredeemables
Those who believe in your feeble assurances
And you hear me say
"I'm not selling my soul to this possible blame!"
And yet here's that same flame
Feminine
And strong
And unwillingly baring the blame
(anyways...)
MRYM
What was your first experience with love? How did it shape the way you view love now?
My first experience with love was with a man who I barely knew. We met and had gotten to know eachother over a span of 4 months. I didn't know I loved him at the time. Maybe I just loved the idea of him. The idea that I could possibly be loved by someone other than those who had to. This was never a relationship and it could never be one. But I loved the way he smiled, the way he talked to me, the attention he gave me. He made me feel understood, or rather that I was worthy of being understood; like I could be something more than the flaws that I had harboured. It made me feel like I was unlovable after the feelings I had turned into nothing more. It made me feel stupid when he left.
3/6/24
I am unhappy. I don't know why, but it feels as though my existence is plagued with discomfort. It permeates through my being, with no known source.
I feel anxious and unmotivated. I feel deeply insecure and insufficient. I hate to say it, but when I think of Aristotle saying "a woman is the incompleteness of a man," it resonates with me. Not to say that all women are, but I am.
And it is not that I view myself relative to what a man is perceived to be, I just feel incomplete and that quote is what I thought of.
Who knows, maybe my subconscious is suggesting that I am viewing myself relative to a man even though it is not in my conscious state as I am writing this.
MRYM
I've realized recently that ever since I was young, I perceived God as this egotistic, narcissistic being that was inherently selfish at its core. I couldn't fathom how a being so great could create an entire species for the mere purpose of being worshipped. That's what I was told. That God created us so that we could worship him.