Philosophy.saying @philosophysaying - Tumblr Blog

GO AHEAD, NAIL IT SHUT

The coffin begs to be sealed once and for all. Finish this, please. Say what you long to say. Inflict the same pain that eats away at your insides, turning you rotten from bone to skin. Rid yourself of it.

Be ever so pleased as you ruin my life. Curse my existence. Tell your family how I robbed you of joy, of sleep, of time. (For someone penniless, you walk with a spring in your step.) Box yourself in with lofty expectations that you pin upon the next poor soul to cross your stormy path.

Lay brick after brick, siloing yourself from anyone who could have softened you over the decades. Reek of bitterness and resentment. Lock your castle door from the inside out. Bury the key, never to be found. Remain there until fate claims you. Realize there is no one to mourn you. Realize what you did, what you did not do. Realize it's too late to go back.

This is my slow-burn revenge, crafted for someone as deserving as you. May you choke on it.

noorshirazie

“I have traveled from one phantom to another; on the hunt for familiarity, or a fragment of solace, or anything to tranquilize this isolation and keep my torments at bay. Then I find you, and you transform everything into shades of gold. And I can hear music again, and it is amazing how alert my senses have become. Thank you for helping me remember that a world should not slowly decay after someone walks away. Thank you for reviving me. I can take it from here.”

— Noor Shirazie, Alive again.

lazyyogi

When you drink enough water, you stop being thirsty. You don’t need to detach yourself from thirst or water.

When you see through an illusion, you stop behaving, thinking, or feeling as if it is real. Any attachment falls away.

thirdity

“In the eighteenth century, “literature” functioned largely as a companion term for “literacy.” Someone who had “literacy” knew how to read and write. Someone who had “literature” had used that knowledge and read broadly over the whole range of what had been written and published. Literature meant an acquaintance with what had been written in the language. In short, literature was a species of knowledge. […] It is only after we get well into that groundswell of printed material in the 1880s that we find what had formerly been a secondary or even tertiary meaning of “literature” coming to the fore and suppressing these other meanings: literature as a set of texts of a certain order of value.”

— Samuel R. Delany, “Some Remarks on Narrative and Technology”

thirdity

“However paradoxical it may seem, myth hides nothing: its function is to distort, not to make disappear.”

— Roland Barthes, Mythologies

gqandw

Problems are a feature of life, not a bug. If you get rid of all the problems, you get rid of everything that makes life worth living. You know, we think it's the easy life, we think it's the destination, but actually it's who you become on the journey. It's the struggle. It's the adversity. That's where you build yourself.

thesweetiepienovels

Actually, you are enough. Even if you don’t work. Or study. Or go out. Or have friends. Or have family. You’re enough because you exist and your existence is enough to be enough because you are not a product. You are not a sum of output. You are not a task to complete. But because you are something the universe wanted and put here even if you’ll never understand why. Somewhere in the cosmos your existence makes a difference, even if it’s not the way others existences do.