Trees that wear hats

You know, the people who had to survive with nihilism founded religions. And then, those who lived with religion now take some form of pleasure in nihilism. Our religion is change, then. And if we ever figure that out, we're so dead.

Happiness is not happiness. It is not what you're thinking about. Happiness, that is, that chemical release of hormones, dopamine receptors and all that... that is reward. And it underlies fear and a great deal of pain. Fear, for you will be afraid to lose it, thus denaturing happiness. Pain, because of the efemerity of it all. Happiness is a state. It's stationary. Mere moments. Time flows, however, you may take pride in those moments, but to cling onto the past, that is a dangerous path. Happiness is a blind way of thinking. It tends to make you think inwardly, forgetful of the entirety of the world and its mechanisms. It bathes the mind with comfort, it gives false securities, it allows mind to wither away. So what do you look for, then? How to put it... peace. That true congruence between your projected model of reality (you can never know true reality) and your actions, mindset, ways of perception. A true belief of the concepts you have nurtured, principles, main ideas

My love, this is where we part. You can go on sleeping, I am done with comfort. I wake now, I can't let everything in me rot. I pray I won't fall back asleep right away, the shock of the real world is just too great, I know this from this very moment of my own conception. To what purpose? None, there is none. The world is devoid of any purpose and plan. No one above will judge my actions, there is no absolute set of values. I have my values though, and my life... and none yet have had both combined. And it would just be a waste of 80 hopeful years of my life to give this up. And somewhere in between of where I die and you are born, you will want to kiss me... and I hope I'll either come back to life, or the missing of me will make you love even more. Am I still able to be missed? Do you still see me as human? You couldn't be my saint no more, cuz you wouldn't be hanging around...

Păcat că se certau prin pereți ce ascundeau puțin Nouă ne păsa, normal, puțini fiind, satin În urechi aveam, doar să ne mințim Să părem doar că știm, puțini și fricoși fiind. Formă clasică de anestezic pentru văz, Emoții ce repugnă de redare excesivă Eu ți le bag pe gât, ție îți plac Deși nu le agreezi, viață parșivă Preferi durere cunoscută unei culturi noi, tac. Eu văd că nu înțeleg, văd și renunț la a mai căuta sens Vrea să integrez în mine, lipsit de cuvinte, Vreau prin acest clișeu să te aduc lângă mine Ca apoi să ducem o viață prea visată Neîncadrabilă în cuvinte, viață în baie de hormoni, durere Dar viață, fără doar și poate. Îmi pare rău că îți dai ochii peste cap, eu sunt prost Și am văzut proști acceptați și aplaudați pentru iluzie Intenții bune am, frustrări din plin, ultim cost Să ardem ceai de infuzie Metaforă pentru ambiții și regrete. Doar rogu-te, nu satiriza, nu ironiza, Nu asimila culturii tale bazate pe frică Eu sunt un clișeu fiindcă sunt p

Deci am iesit singur, afara, sa vad apusul. Toata ziua am avut flashback-uri. Inainte sa ies, ma simteam primavaratic, ca atunci cand totul era social. Multe amintiri, foarte multe amintiri. Am iesit, din nou, un car de amintiri, din toate momentele, asa frumoase. Iti explicam cum, matematic, suntem cei mai norocosi oameni din lume. Am uitat. Eram impreuna in multe locuri, tu in mai multe ipostaze ca mine. Atatea locuri. Iar in fata mea, soarele inca ardea prea puternic. M-am dus in jos, pe deal, la o piatra de care imi aminteam. Am fost, amandoi, odata, exact langa piatra aia, sa traim. Chiar m-am intrebat, de ce acolo? Nu ne sprijineam de ea, nu era un loc frumos. Cred, cred doar, ca era singurul punct de reper, sprijin, daca vrei, in toata valea aia definita doar de iarba. Cel putin, singurul pe care il vazusem atunci. Toata ziua m-am gandit la apusul ala, toata ziua. Incercam sa leg totul intr-o metafora continua, sa dau un suprasens la tot ce se intamplase. De ce am mers aco

Ma omoara              It kills me Intelegi                                      You don't get it Vise, mii, societate zero                          Don't push this further, no people, no world Da?                         Let it roam for months, the dream, the illusion of the normal man De nivel mediu, usor.                     Average Iluzia omului se prabuseste in ce este nebunie.     No injections. Vreau sa vin la tine.                      The other is always here, I cannot be without the other. Ma iubeste, ma desparte                      Avion, cu motor, motor. Is this unfair? Am I forgiven if I try to fix it? Ma iubeste, ne desparte, pains me to say it does, nu pot fara eu-ul din ce nu poate fi decat crazy.

Last three posts were unfinished thoughts from nights I just couldn't write my brain away. I couldn't, as much as I cannot now, for you won't be there to hear, for nihilism has taken over. This is just a self-reminder, I cannot know how this period will end, but it pains me that I have to hide everything just for the sake of keeping people close. It's a complaint, such a relief and complaint. Today marks the realisation that I could give up on everything. Nothing would be different, no one will miss it, I would just stop existing the same way, and the world would be practically identical. No courts of law could stop me, no one could tell me which choice is better. I would just live in constant, milder pain. Only if I knew that what I feel is either temporary or permanent, maybe I could make a sensible choice. One thing I now, this is big, a world will be either created or crushed. Thinking about this sparks crums of enthusiasm and energy that are so characteristical