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@purchai-blog
Pierce Brown - Red Rising (Or was it Golden Son? Not really sure)
This does not reflect anything specific, it’s more of a feeling I had several times throughout my life. Basically, something that hits closer to home than I would want.
I guess my life has been going well since I didn’t have too much reason to write something here. But I’m sure I will conjure something up soon.
The moment
25.10.2017 22:16
48 hours. Quite possibly, the best 48 hours of my life. Or at least the most interesting ones. So far, at least.
I need to preserve the memories. It’s all I have. Thanks to the foolishness of enjoying the moment, I have nothing more, but the memories.
The memories of the old lady on the train, living in Germany for 50 years, owning 2 houses in the Czech republic, yet staying over in a flat in Germany, where they won’t even let you put a satellite on your own balcony. With the husband that is giving her so much trouble, yet she still does everything she can to help him. And I forgot to ask for her name.
The gorgeous girl on the train, that was worried we were talking about her. With the most beautiful german accent in her otherwise perfect English. Handing in a doctorate’s thesis (if such a thing exists) right about now. She was examining motorproteins, some things that carry around stuff in cells. She had beautiful blonde hair and big glasses. And she definitely didn’t look like a soon to be doctor. And I forgot to ask for her name.
The two dutch girls at the concert, standing before the hall since 11 am, because they thought more people are gonna be there. The girls that let me have the poster, because it would just be lying around somewhere in the corner if they took it. The girls that were sitting with me under the podium for two hours, laughing at this half-drunk attention seeking guy that just would not accept that we don’t want or can’t speak German. The girl that listen to exactly the same music I do. The girl that was just like you. The girl that run off in a hurry in order for me not to get a chance to try hitting on them like the drunk guy. And I forgot to ask for her name.
Pierre, the french tall guy in my hostel’s bar that was at an Erasmus in Poland. The guy that was in Berlin for a Nick Cave concert, but arrived 2 days early to see the city. The guy that was really good at talking about anything, be it music, politics or beer. The guy, whose surname I will never know.
I guess this is what travelling is about. Gathering new experiences while leaving the old ones behind. At least it was like that this time. We shall see what happens the next time.
And I almost forgot: The two french madmen, standing above the crazy mass off people like gods. Like two ethereal beings showing us a tiny piece of heaven and us thanking them for it with all our might. The two madmen we would carry on our hands anywhere in the World, if only they gave us another tiny taste of their magic. For that is what it felt like. Magic.
It was about as close as I ever felt to something more than human.
Vault
19.9.2017 0:29
I am a Gold. Maybe not a Peerless Scarred, possibly a Silver, but definitely somewhere up there. The life of luxury falling into my lap and me trying to prove myself, to prove that I am not a pixie but a peerless. Am I though? That remains to be seen. The Institute is still not over.
I was in Cracow. With the absolute artifact. The one point in my existence that keeps somewhat static. Now with a blog. Unexpected.
I was also in the industrial city and Katowitz. Industrial was amazing, the atmoshpere....
Why am I writing? I am not depressed, sad, nothing is inherently bad, so why am I writing?
I don’t trust my own memory anymore. I want to save my own information somewhere. Somewhere safe. Because I truly feel like the youngest known patient with Alzheimer’s disease. I just keep remembering less and less. So for the time being, before I get the true feeling of writing the stuff I usually write here, I will use this as a... vault.
Industrial city. Katowitz, Cracow, Guardians vol. 2, prolonged contact with the absolute artifact met with unpleasant realizations, nervousness, stress, feeling of unpreparedness, no bechelor thesis, nothing ready. A drone, literally falling into my lap. I miss people. I miss you.
I am not a Gold. Not a pixie or a scarred. I am human. I am a deranged human being that has something broken in his brain and keeps associating himself with the books he reads in a very unhealthy manner. To be honest, I have never felt anything like this book before. It just consumes you. You spend 40 hours lying in bed just reading, not caring about food, sleep, feelings, movement, you just need to know what comes next. And that’s where I am right now. It will hopefully end, soon enough, but I still need to chew through this amazing epic.
Everyone should read Red Rising.
Also I cut off part of my finger.
I am dancing in the middle of the road. I am dancing in the middle of a usually very busy road. But there is nobody around me. Anywhere. This solace gives me energy. It gives me joy. But the joy does not come from the solace. It comes from meeting a person today. Even though I met the person quite recently, it still made me much happier meeting the person today. For I really like the person. And I thought I don’t, but I do.
That person is like really cool.
But not only cool, the person actually has quite a few downsides. Quite a few things that are wrong. And that’s probably what’s so good.
I am dancing my legs off, for I have not danced in a long time. And it feels really good.
I wish I was dancing more often.
I am able to recognize the sound of a drone from 300 meters
20.02.2017 15:05
As I sit in the library of the T12 building of our faculty, I ponder the purpose of life, universe, the meaning of religion and afterlife. The reason for that is the book Sum by David Eagleman, an american neuroscientist who probably realizes that most of the stories are stupid, but then again, if it’s stupid and it works, is it really stupid? Because the stories work. Even though you know they are some crazy yet simple ideas, they do make you think about your past and future choices and some things around the world. And above all, they make you want to discuss the stories with other people, which I currently cannot. I still have to borrow the book from my library. The copy I have now seems to be just some extract of the “best” stories according to some reader. And I wanted to get back to physical books regardless, as I don’t know what else my spark my interest in them again. The Witcher is just too complex to comprehend anymore and the Dune needs me to clear up a part of my brain just for it as it makes me remember the names of houses and representatives of certain factions. And yet still all I do is listen to three people talk about porn.
Podcasts have become a thing of mine lately. I believe I mentioned that before already. I also realized that against everyone’s opinion, I am becoming more and more of an introvert. Recluse. As we arrived from Austria, the first thing I did, before changing clothes or unpacking, was to lie down on my bed, close the door and just be alone in a room for half an hour. Being in the same room with 3 other people for 3 days straight was somehow stessful for my subconscious without me even knowing. And it continues on. Even though I am already relatively welcome in conversation at college, I still do not seek them. Today’s situations were mostly because of Sum, but I can still feel how being alone makes me calmer and more free regardless.
I broke my mouth skiing. Well, that just sounds weird. I scratched it. And it feels great. I mean it feels like if I was from Fight Club and I have this illogical feeling of higher self esteem as I think about others wondering where I got that bruise from, as it looks just like from a bar fight. But the realist inside me knows that people don’t even notice it because it’s not all that visible unless you are really up close.
Biathlondev is dead. I mean... stagnant. I knew this would happen, that the process would be long-winded mostly thanks to my lack of vigilance, but I believe that I will do a bit now and then and it will eventually start growing faster. The start is rough and I don’t want to overblow it, as it would maybe put me off finishing the project.
When Einlaudi isn’t Einlaudi and you realize people literally hate you
There was supposed to be so much, yet now, it all feels like a distant dream.
This sentence describes both scenarios.
So Einlaudi isn’t Einlaudi at all. He’s called Einaudi. I mean that is not such a big deal, but it now makes me feel like an idiot for several reasons and you know... Nobody likes feeling like an idiot. To add to that, he actually wrote some movie scores. Not only that, even some TV scores. And a lot of them. Now that would generally not be such a problem either, but it was just a very specific state of mind for me. Let me explain.
I was discussing with my brother whether some musicians of the current age could once be on the level of Mozart and Beethoven. And after some debate, he told me that generally, artists that make music for television and movies are just never going to be on the level of “pure” musicians making music for the sake of music. That they are always going to be frowned upon by the music community. Now I have no idea whether that is true or not, but I believed it. And when I found Einaudi (about whom I had wanted to make a separate post, but I subsequently forgot it), I just put it into my mind that since I have never seen a movie with his score, he must make music only for the sake of music. And it made me realize how “cool” that makes me feel. Listening to a contemporary classical artist that doesn’t make music for media.
And it was all a lie. He makes music for televsion. Oh well, the music is still.... Amazing. And I should not dislike it on that basis.
That brings me to the second part of this post. The fact that people hate me. And that I am actually quite easy to be hated.
I read a transcript of a conversation between my girlfriend a girl who was a friend of mine. The first friend I made in college. She stopped speaking to me some time ago and recently was very, VERY resentful towards me. And I simply found out that she doesn’t like me... no, that she hates me, because I was afraid that she might not like me anymore. And she is quite a down-to-earth girl so if she does something, she does it properly and she managed to explain very carefully how she hates me, why she hates me, why all her friends hate me and how everyone should and is going to hate me.
And it made me sad. I promised to myself to not get sad over it. I knew it, I knew that it was like that (except for the “everyone” part, I still thought it was more of a personal vendetta), yet it still got me thinking and made me... sad.
And when else do I write here, than when I’m sad. Oh Einaudi, why do you sometimes have to make music as sad as the song I am listening to right now.
So what are the outcomes? What did I learn from this? Everything must have a positive, right? But I have never been in such a position without any positive outcome. There is nothing I can do. They have their opinion on me, they are going to keep it whatever it takes and if possible, even spread it. And I can either go and argue with them, or I can just try to prove them wrong. Thing is, I feel like I have been proving them wrong all this time. In my mind at least, I was. I never meant to do any harm, I always wanted to help everyone and my biggest motto at this school was “it doesn’t matter who comes first or second, we can all win this race.” Yet now I am faced with statements such as “He thinks he is better than everyone else and that he must be the best at everything and smarther than everyone.”
And I simply don’t know what to do anymore.
Tell me what music you listen to and I will tell you who you are.
It started with stuff like Linkin Park and O-Zone. Basically what was the top in the charts at the time. There was no real access to music, no way to explore for the 8 year old boy and songs that simply stuck in his head were enough for him.
Then he started wearing loose hoodies thanks to his aunt buying him a garment which he did not simply inherit from his brother. His mom bought him a ring. He never really understood why, but why not. And he was wearing a norwegian crown on his neck, which he got from his brother. And he was listening to KoЯn (which he now, thanks to his two years of Russian, always reads as [koian]). A nu-metal band. A mixture of his previous favourites, but darker, heavier. A dark, lonely recluse, slightly bullied, not really understanding where he is and what is happening around him.
As his tastes were turning darker and heavier, adding bass more and more, it all snapped when his first friend from this strange new place let him listen to a festival mix of a drum’n’bass DJ. This thing was like pure energy poured into his ears. It was amazing and he wanted more. And so, he asked someone he knew and he got him his top classics from this genre. And it was great. Some was amazing, some didn’t really fit his tastes, but it was all great and new. Electronic music. He gave his ring to a friend and never saw it again. And his PE teacher made him tear off his medallion from his neck. He was angry, but he was also getting energetic.
As he gained access to the internet, he started looking for his own music, now mostly centered around this new genre of his. And this was a long and amazing period. It was just pure fun. Even though sometimes the previous day was the same as the following one and the previous verse was indistinguishable from the next in the same manner, he never felt angry or sad. It was simply an energy fueled period of carelessnes and fun. He started buying himself his own clothes. And people were telling him that it’s totally not his style and that it’s not like him, but nobody knew what is like him, because they have never seen him wear something he chose. And he never did either. Up until that time.
But all great things must come to an end. Against his own will and his utterance “I will never get bored of this, I will listen to this forever.”, he didn’t. But he didn’t change style, he.... stopped having style. He thought he was into electronica now... And then that he was into electroswing. And after that he thought he is into indie... But he realized that he isn’t into anything. He is into the stuff he likes and that’s fine. At first, he believed that it went against his own ideology of trying to distinguish himself from the others, not being like all the other sheeple and listening to what is currently the popular whim, but he realized he isn’t quite like that either. He just likes music. He doesn’t like a specific genre, he just likes good music. Anything that he deems worthy is to his liking. And so he started to spread out and enjoy the wonders of the musical world. He still had specific favorites of course, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. And so he listened to some strange czech pop-electronica band, Mozart, dark french-house electric duo, Pink Floyd... And he thought oh how interesting he was, because he has such a diverse repertoire. But it took him years to realize that nobody cared. He was now his own man. Music stopped defining him, he was defining his music. And he liked that. It did take away a feeling of being part of something bigger, but the feeling of freedom was just as compelling. Besides, he now had greater problems than his music. He was starting to think about other things, which just seemed more important to him. School, relationships, future. Perhaps they were, perhaps they were not, but what does it really matter. These were his priorities. And at the age of 19, he said to himself that he did not become adult at 18, but 19. That 19 somehow changed him. He never really knew why, what happend, but something in him just snapped and he started thinking about the world a bit differently and about his life as well. And he still believes that, two years later.
And here he is now. With a collection of vinyl presses of all his favorite albums and artists, yet no time or energy to listen to them. He doesn’t really listen to music. He rather listens to books or podcasts. The man that loves being alone and hates human singing in songs now mostly uses his ears to listen to... People speak. He just doesn’t have time for such silly things like music. There are more important, pressing matters at hand. Or are there? He thought so. Until today. For today, he listened to Ludvico Einlaudi in his shower.
gojû go
So... originally, all posts ended with a number in japanese declaring their number. Well, “all”... it lasted the first four posts and then was retired. But I manually counted them and here we are now. 55. It took 54 posts for this place to transcend its original use, that’s a pretty good score honestly. I expected that to happen sooner I suppose. I also wanted it to happen in a different manner, not “fuck this” by the receiving (I still google how do the I and E in that word go after each other) end. But alas, here we are.
I wonder, was it a lie? Will curiosity be stronger? I am doubtful about that. I don’t think there is enough interest about this place for curiosity to be so strong.
So... here we go... Chapter two? More like chapter four, looking back at all the posts here. So... why not.
Chapter four.
also remember Low Roar for future reference, dickhead.
Masterpiece. ? . ! .
I am sitting with my legs on the second chair in my room. My computer is running and draining electricity, but I have to be sitting in my chair with my Surface, facing the other way. Those two big speakers are simply too big to be around my big computer, so I am facing away from it to face them and to feel every single note and word made by Mr. Marek. I used to imagine music as exploding dots and waving lines, now I just imagine the frequency response diagram, oscilloscope laboratories are showing its toll on me. And so I sit here, listening to the album I have been so anxious about, in my relatively clean room, blasting it at 1/3 volume (basically near the level of hearing damage) and... I probably love it.
Probably? Strange. I don’t know, I love it, it’s great music, but it’s missing something. Something Mr. Marek would not be able to get back even with the best song in the world. That thing is the conjuncture of two souls enjoying this very equally and looking someone else in the eyes and without the use of words simply seeing in those lines the sentence “This is really awesome, right?” while trying to convey “Fuck yeah, it sure is.” with your own.
So what are my thoughts? I like it, I really do. I was thinking about the option of being able to listen to it first and buying it later, but now that I am listening to it, I know I would say “yeah it’s good, but come on, I’m not gonna pay that money for it.” And yet I love the fact that I bought it and I can’t wait for it to arrive and to listen to it again. I just have to buy something out of an impulse. The longer I think about it, the less likely I am going to buy it. And I mean it was like 300 for two colorful LPs, that’s a steal even for music I wouldn’t enjoy! But I enjoy this, very dearly. Yet still, I am here, alone in my room. Loneliness will probably be getting the better of me the older I get, as it seems I might be getting more acquainted to the more sociable situations. I am starting to feel you. There is always someone in this house and if it’s not someone who comes up here directly and starts chatting, it’s someone who I know would love to but has to be downstairs and I go to them out of sympathy. (The second one is my dad’s girlfriend and the first one is her daughter, to confuse you less)
Agh, I hope you don’t mind reading so much. If you read it still. I originally just wanted to say I’m listening to Masterpiece and it’s nice, but I somehow feel like you won’t enjoy it, because you don’t really enjoy anything we did anymore and my gut tells me this will be the same. I felt the fact that you didn’t enjoy d’n’b and Monogatari anymore in my gut too and this will probably follow suit. I can still be hopeful, but I don’t want to get burned. Oh yes, and I wanted to mention I have an instagram where I sometimes post, sometimes a nice picture (or one that I deem so at least) and sometimes even some text (that I deem interesting, it is probably less so for everyone else, but the whole ordeal is basically just a smaller brother of this place, you know). So ask me about that if you want it, I don’t want to shove it in your face, that’s too narcissistic even for me. Just mentioning it here feels weird, but I feel like you might possibly be interested in it and it would feel bad to hide it from you.
My last thought is probably wondering whether I should have waited for the vinyl or not. My original idea was that I should have but I couldn’t help myself. I should have because if it was bad, I wouldn’t even bring myself to listen to a vinyl I bought, or I would have known that I bought a vinyl that’s bad and I would hate myself for that. On the other hand, if I listened to it on vinyl first, I would convince myself that it’s great even if it wasn’t, because I would want to feel satisfied with something I bought and cannot return anymore. But thankfully, neither seems to be case. I am listening to it before the vinyl arrives and as I said, I am enjoying it and can’t wait for it to arrive. All is good. Almost.
Lux just started.
Post Addendum (Summer Cleanup 2)
(because R cannot into post edits)
I have recently found out that we were missing the most amazing part of the Flower Dance dialogue.
Summer cleanup
As I’m cleaning up my room, I sooner or later stumble upon the Linha Singers LP, of which I have never heard a single song. Behind it is a line of books, mostly Boys from the Otter River (Czech names always sound so funny when translated) and behind that line are two black objects. I imagine the scenerio of this house burning down and me grabbing only the essential stuff more often than I care to admit, but the list is always very short. That is interesting, as I get very attached to objects and would feel horrible if they burned down, but still, there are several objects in my room that simply have a greater importance than the rest. One is a seethrough plastic bag full of all sorts of memorabilia, that now resides in a slightly bigger shopping plastic bag with japanese writing all over it, since that bag is an object of memorabilia as well but wouldn’t fit inside the seethrough one anymore, and the other two objects are these two black books. I would maybe consider saving a yoyo, my phone, the Surface and so on if I had the time, but the fact that the bag and the books are of upmost importance should a disastrous scenario occur still stands. It might seem funny that I am writing about them at this time, when we discussed them quite recently, but it is simply a random occurence. And those are bound to happen, more likely than not happen. Agh, CGP Grey is getting the better of me in the regard of random occurences, but I’m afraid I still don’t understand it fully.
As I’m cleaning up the room, I change some stuff around. I get rid of the boxes on my dresser (the first word that came to my mind was Schrank and it didn’t want to leave), I redesigned the glass bust and it’s now wearing welding glasses as well as the VR HMD it was wearing up until now and last but not least, I managed to attach the vinyl watch to my wall and put batteries in it. Sleep for the next week will be a nightmare until I get used to the ticking. And as the room slowly changes in tiny bits, I feel as if I was changing as well. I know I changed quite radically, but everyone does during that age. I remained relatively stable afterward but now, I feel like a slower and smaller change is taking its toll on me. It is most probably because of the new environment, conditions and responsibilities that I am still getting used to after a year of following them. And maybe I am finally starting to work with them as opposed to learning about them. That way or another, I feel different. Calmer, more passive... Now that I think about it, the community is a big reason for that. Up until college, I was one of the “cool bigmouths” that would argue with teachers, cheat in every way he could, be on his phone during classes and generally not care about school. And now I feel like the exact opposite, I am one of the very few that pays close attention to everything that is being discussed and open my mouth only to ask topic related questions. And everyone else is suddenly just browsing funny websites on their phones and asking me the night before the test what did I learn from and if I have a cheat sheet. Of course I do, but I don’t feel very good about it, or normal. I actually don’t feel like I want to use it at all, making them is just the best way for me to learn. That doesn’t mean I don’t use them... just not always. Less and less. Yeah. Keep telling that yourself, R.
This whole post seems very unnecessary. Without a meaning, without anything. But that is probably a) because I opened the two black books and flew through them with the biggest smile on my face and a heartache in my chest and b) because that is probably the spirit of summer. I don’t need to really do anything, I am free, 4 months of no obligations. Better go find some then, eh?
Thought
Disclaimer: Although I know a certain reader might find this post to be a mockery of their work and study, I simply want to share my thoughts, which I under no regard consider functional or truthful, it is simply something I want to remind myself with and perhaps share with the world, as an insight into myself and the world as I perceive it. I can very clearly imagine your disagreement with this, but you know me, I just want to share this and I know you are not very content with it, but I want you to know that there is nothing wrong with that. With that said
To understand someone’s psychology, you have to assimilate their mind to function as your own. Once you present yourself to the situation they have been presented with, you understand their thoughts and emotions, since they are the same as yours.
A friend posts a picture on a social website. It’s a picture of him, holding a caricature of himself with the comment “best gift ever from the best gf ever”. Now that “gf” he is referring to is a girl he has known for about half a year and that picture he is holding is a caricature she had someone make for her. There is nothing wrong with the guy meaning what he writes there, but I had just a certain reaction to that post, which would be simply described as “Really?” I was simply not sure if I would consider that the best gift ever from the best gf ever. And I was always quite anxious about sharing stuff like that. I just never felt like it was something important enough to share. And upon realizing my own reaction to his picture, I started feeling bad. Why should I be the judge? He has his own mind, his own will, he chooses what he considers the best. But I do not agree with him. Why? I should be neutral, like I try to be. Why do I have to find this strange, uncanny feeling inside of me upon viewing this picture? And so, I had to find a way to redeem myself. And since that was quite hard, I had to settle for a redeeming fact that works for almost any situation. There is a certain group of people, a group I could probably even name some specific people of, that if asked a certain question, would come to the realization that they had the same reaction as I did. Now I am not saying that’s a true redemption for me, but simply that at least I have someone to stand by my side at such matter. And that once we agree on such a general situation, I can probably guess their reactions for other things. And that’s the basic idea of the statement above.
I am not really sure why I wrote it down, I just felt a sudden urge. If you wish to comment on it, be my guest, I would actually be kind of interested in hearing your opinion. And at least I would realize if you even visit this place anymore.
Antonin Dvorak
New World Symphony
This painting is a study. What is nicer, the feeling of enjoyment during painting, or the feeling of accomplishment upon painting something nice? I usually strive for the latter, but as I found out, it makes me quite angry during the procedure. So I put two ideas together: paint something only because you feel like painting, not really caring about the result, but about the act of doing so and make something that is a proper painting, as in it doesn’t have white spaces (although now that I look at it, there are still some spots missed, but I think the meaning is more important than the execution).
Am I happy with the painting? Not at all, it looks like something from a 5 year-old for God’s sake. Did I enjoy making it? I sure as hell did. I still don’t know which feeling is better, but I will try to find out and I might actually be foced onto the former, since I am never really satisfied with any of them and I certainly don’t feel like any of them look nice.
PS: The inverted perspective was my plan all along. Totally.
EDIT: As I keep listening to the symphony, I realized I stopped painting before the best part. I’m sure that’s the reason for the picture looking as it does.
Words. Again.
I truly love writing 2 paragraphs here only for the page to reload by itself, thus losing everything. Fuck you Microsoft.
So where was I? Words.
No, I don’t think I can do it again, I cannot write it all down again. It just doesn’t feel right. And... as if anyone really cared. Who am I even writing this for? For you and for me, of course, but do you really want to know? I am not all that sure.
Words are fascinating (an extremely different perspective compared to the lost post, which was.... less... objective). They control us, bags of flesh controlled by tiny thunderstorms inside spongy carcasses enclosed in domes of calcium and carbon. Liquified coal injected into smashed wood or millions of tiny black and white lightbulbs switching on and off in specific succession in order to be a con of... smashed paper with coal. Or octopi’ defense mechanism, in some more posh instances.
“Your problem is you've spent your whole life thinking there are rules. There aren't.”
But there are rules. But not the ones written on wood or encoded into atom-sized transistors, but rules of humanity. The rules doctor Falstofe was unable to find.
The wrong words at the wrong time can make all the difference in the world.
And they truly do. Humans are incredibly fragile and it is a mystery how they managed to become the leading race. Of course, versatility and brain to body ratio would have a word with me on that, but there are so many disadvantages to humans that... Once something better comes along, we won’t stand even the slightest chance. We will become the dogs of of the universe. The monkey we used to be. “A monkey is able to communicate using sign language, first occurence of intelligence in other being than humans.” I presume that is what the headlines said when Koko was a hot topic. “A human is able to function as an intelligent lifeform, not being destroyed by petty words”, that is probably what the headlines will say, once we will have been in captivity of the Centaurians (not centaurs, but occupants of the Alpha Centauri system. I mean as if we have a chance of communicating with someone else in any comprehensible scope of time) for some amount of time. There will be just one specimen, as there is Koko now. And it will die of age and it won’t happen again in any measurable scale, either for millenia or until we die out.
But humans, humans are pathologically curious. They will not stop at anything to seek information and collect as much as they can. And so, they shall continue acquiring information they not only have no need for, but that hurts them directly. And even few sentences are able to transform the best of moods to a surge of depression.
That reminds me of the shortest sad story orbiting around the internet: “For sale: baby clothes, never worn.” But that is completly unrelated to anything.
EDIT: Reading through my old posts, which I do after publishing all posts, brings me to the realization that I have either matured or my writing has improved. The first one is the less probable one, since I am sitting here with a hairclip shaped like a heart in my hair, so I will probably settle for the latter.
EDIT2: The thought of deleting some posts from this place has finally come across my mind, but it is mostly for the fear of them being shown to the wrong eyes. And they still feel vastly more personal than the stuff you used to write. But that might be a subjective view.
The untamable beast, walking through the forest with many hunters trying to end its reign. But somehow, her evasion is always flawless and the hunters always become the prey.
Ridding of her would solve many troubles but it would also lead to void and dismay for when it’s happy and in joy dabbles the hunters willingly its requests obey.
But why does it have to be like this? Why must the yin follow the yang? Why always the empty promise of harmony clawing its fang.
-R 2016