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

Grew up with the question somewhere in the back of my head. Never did it make sense. What does it mean to be, shouted one and some... And why "or". Why rule out the possiblity that there might be existances that go past just two extreme states, what a continuous function. Regardless, it's depth and meaning would only employ their original

Just forget, alright? Dissapear, disaster, no social convention, drink, die, forget, let go. I don't need you, alright? I don't, I only need myself

I am sick

Daca timpul ma invinge iar eu cedez, timpul inceteaza sa existe. Si daca eu nu lupt si ii las pe altii, din nou, nu traiesc, nu e timp. Timp e doar pentru lucrurile rele si malefice. Cele bune, doar momente atemporale. Senzatie prelungita, doar amintire. Si cate aduni si cate versi, de cate iti pasa. Vrem timp ce nu e al nostru pentru ca ne e frica sa acceptam ca il pierdem pe cel ce-l avem. Timpul ne defineste instinctul de supravietuire, viata insasi e o batalie cu timpul. Nu o putem castiga decat daca nu o purtam. Si daca nu o purtam, nu mai existam. Si daca ne invinge, am mai spus, pierde si timpul. Deci nu te plange ca nu ai timp, asta inseamna sa existi, sa fii mereu mai in viitor decat iti dai seama. Nici macar lumina nu are timp sa ajunga la noi, iar pentru ea, timpul nici nu are sens. Inainte de inceput, nu e timp. Daca ar fi om, timpului i-ar fi la fel de frica sa ne piarda. Dar el e timpul, e absolutul cu sfarsit si inceput, zeul subjugat omului, la fel ca toti ceilalti

Of, just another brillaint future gone at the instant of my thinking of it. Yet another crisis, and this all sounds so different written atop different music. Usually, it'd be whiny, now it seems proud. It IS something, it's life, it's pain and it's real. How many can say that it's real. Real people just know when it's real, or when they lie to themselves. And I could again succumb to clichee, I could just spill out nothingness wordy, I could. I could lie, I could live in the illusion I live in. I could. You realize? I really could. A choice, to keep sane and happy. You know separation is never the solution. Exacty after you wrong him and her, and they wrong you back, that very instant is the chance of bond. It's the only bond forged of pain that we need. Be pride in the knowledge of your ignorance. Be proud to preserv whatever self worth has been beaten out from you. From your mom crying, from your dad not giving a damn, from all the he's and the he

teiubescvreausamaacceptisisafimimpreunasincerisavorbimchestiifainesisanetinemdemanasisafacemlucrurifainesisatraimvarasisaputemgandilafelsisa-tiaratchestii da asta e o declaratie te rog iarta-ma pentru ea dar nu mai pot si nu mai vreau vreau sa dispar ca sa ma intorc sincer si eu pentru ca orice gand a ajuns sa ma altereze prea tare si vrea ca lumea mea sa se reduca la tine dar tu nu stii asta si imi e frica sa iti spun pentru ca nu cred ca cunosc vreo persoana, nici macar pe mine si ma doare mai tare si iar intru in sfera gandurilor si faptelor obsesive care sunt la granita depresiei si parca am uitat tot ce am invatat, cultura generala si despre cum sa am grija de mine dar nu mai vrea sa incerc sa ma abtin si sa zbier si sa mor cate putin in fiecare zi m-am saturat vreau sa ma trezesc altfel, vreau sa pot face altfel m-am saturat ca zilele sa treaca pe langa nu mai vreau nici greseli nici experienta vreau usurinta dar ea nu e buna pentru ca deformeaza iar stagnarea duce la involutie d

Nu ai vrea, pentru o secunda infima, ca toate minciunile pe care le spui sa devina adevarate? Nascute dintr-o viata neinteresanta, care ar fi vrut sa fie mult mai mult, care ar fi trebuit sa fie a ta, imprumutata prin sinapse degradate. Nu ai vrea, cat vorbesti prin telefonul cu acel-cineva sau alt nume a carui semnificatie nu vrei sa o atesti... sa oferi chiar ceva din viata ta... oh, dar deja o faci, in fundal... crezi, cel putin. Dar nu se observa. Si de ce cand iti spun sinceri lucruri pe care le cred sincer, nu reactionezi? Recunosc, as vrea sa reactionezi, sa-ti schimbi punctul de vedere auzindu-ma, ceea ce nu ar trebui. Dar de ce... e frustrant... si n-am sa mai fac asta. Sunt un idiot si vreau ca cineva sa ma iubeasca pentru asta. Ca tine, si ca tine si ca voi toti... Undeva intre ziua in care te nasti si cea in care mori vei crede ca intelegi... dar va fi fals. Nu exista un singur moment in care intelegi. Intelegerea e un proces, e o devenire. Nu ajungi la ea, traiesti pr

Absolut nici o poezie, dar chiar nici una... sa ma ierte Poe, dar nici una nu transmite la fel de mult ca doua randuri scrise de un vechi prieten, pe care le intelegi si le lasi sa te inunde cu orice mic sentiment le simtea. Cand citesti o poezie proasta rau si totusi zambesti, pur si simplu trimite cu plugul capacitate de empatie. Asa ca dragi poeti clasici, sunteti voi ok, dar stati in alt cartier.

You don't know what it is you're running from. I'm laughing really hard, been laughing for a while... and your husky voice tells me it's time to settle and be so serious. Neaah, the girl singing in the background is the only I need, oh my goodness me, oh my. It isn't hard, you don't need to impress when you laugh, you're just rejoicing living the illusion... and so many illusion give me no clue. Let's lie to each other sweeter, pleaase. I know I can't break through to your heart, but I'll make it an exchange instead of a feather touch. So could you talk like you used to, when you could tell my lies appart and still love them making me. Else i'll laugh in medals and I'll leave you, dear, we're both selfish. We need to be in debt, what a shame... but isn't imperfection source of love, is it now? Come and smile, dear, it won't hurt until we wake.

And yes, how could I deprive ideas of meaning by just... confining them to words. I kind of don't want to lose that part of what I know will never fit. Selfless is it all once were and always will be, we can find meaning, or lack of, by stretching our sights towards things that no one ever knows... where does the Sun set? Why do we have to change? Comfort in ignorance is so human, like many things are. But when we give a part of our heart out, and it gets misread and rejected, sure we get hurt, for we never want to give, only to be aproved of.  And when we are given little parts of someone else... how seldom do we know we should neither care for, nor indulge any gratitude... but simply, receive people inside, let them live through what we know as being human. And smile, forgive... I could forgive myself, if only I wouldn't have to go though it again, I love you.

I can't remember if I ever deserved you, but you wouldn't know or care, for your world was too grand, your lungs too small and your mind too wide. So for your last rebel yell, let yourself know strangers and weird people continue making the world sane and average. Yours is the peace now, ours your legacy, and thanks, for as long as you live in our small lungs.

Limba nativa... imi duce gandurile pe alte cai catre degete... mai mult prin inima, mai putin prin filtrul fricii. N-as vrea sa plec sau sa stau, ci sa simt cu creierul imi leaga centrii vorbirii de ratiune si spirit si emotie. Parca pot sa vad arce sinaptice peste tot, parca pot intelege. Un vas plin de sange, doar un nou centru se dezvolta. Ce alegi sa-i imprimi? Si ce raspuns dai la intrebarea ce faci? Cum te simti? Cat il treci prin filtrul fricii? Ai curaj sa-mi spui tot? Sa fii un nerv deschis, sa pot pune mana pe tine, sa te doara, dar sa fie prima atingere adevarata. Intre minti, unde totul e, de fapt, departe de cliseele inimii si ale spiritului. Magia nu e in dragoste, e in cat de frumos poti visa, cum poti interpreta lumea din jur. Un vis. Si atunci da, te poti numi frumos. Cand iesi din tiparele vorbelor si vezi dincolo de ce spun, in ce fel de sinapse fac. Acolo gasesti binele din oameni. Si pe mine, acolo. Te astept, vreau sa vii.

I am I really crushing my every dream with you with my emotions of enthusiasm towards finally discovering sweetness... Pixels and machine code seems so perfectly sane, even if man-made... nature was careless enough not to povide us with the way of thinking capable of ruling out paradoxes and infinity... there is no such thing... it's just arrogance, our realisation that we are relative. Or I should just shut up. The world around gets tired when you think too much. It's braver to just let yourself feel, clench in all the sweetness someone can give... even if nothing but a lie, I'd rerun it a thousand times over. For i'll never know you but through myself. I'd rather have you in a million moments than for 3 continuous hours, however relatively similar they are. Estranged overflow, I seek math and love, it would be enough.

I lost all faith when you said your choices were right and mine not.