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“I love that moment when I look back at a challenge in my life and realize I’m now at peace with it!”

— Unknown

— dissociation

the book of disquiet by fernando pessoa // a breath of life by clarice lispector // againts the mass of the night by kaye donachie // how to dissapear completely by radiohead // normal people by sally rooney // rené magritte // virgina woolf // by me // enrico robusti

00:54

14 oct

It’s all on me

The Air that cloaks me is so still. I’m out past midnight and im scared. In a run down government funded hospital with floors that remind me of myself- so deeply dented and dirty that there exists nothing to cleanse it.

The low hum that the vending machine sings is accompanied with random outburst of the intercom calling for a doctor. This is a place of pain, a medium in which sickness and dread gather.

She tired to take her life. So soon, is all that I thought. Although she is physically alright, there is this distant pain that stings me- what if I had not answered the phone.

I hate to say it but she has proven them right, she is weak. But I only hate myself for thinking such and dread the fact that such thought occurred about my beloved.

I thought I would be able to catch up on sleep, but here I am seated on a steel cold bench waiting for the patient and her companion to come out. I don’t even know what they are doing to her. But I do hope she is not in pain.

Am I selfish for wanting her to stay? Yes…

But then again I think if she truly wanted to leave she would have by now. Her calling me gathered the fact that she still has hope, without hope she would be past that point.

But oh man, am I tired. Since she has not lived up to the expectations now I must. This is not words that have been directly communicated but rather suggested and installed throughout my youth.

I don’t feel much, I usually don’t when traumatic events happen, and it truly scares me. Why is that I am unable to process my emotions on that moment. It is only much later that they flood my mind and slash my skin.

We suffer not from the events in our lives but from our judgment about them.

Epictetus

Sea cave

Im just always wrong

Everytime i try to do anything, help someone help myself, love… im wrong. I feel as if i will never get this life thing right. Im careless and i hate that about myself. I make so many mistake i question if i myself am one. Im scared i wont every get this right.

Ive criticised of everything that i do to the point where i even question waking up. What if im not doing it correctly. The dread i feel forcing myself out of bed because i know that during my day i will yelled at for doing something, anything. Criticised for trying again. I hate this all. I completely, whole heartedly hate it all. There is somehow always a problem with me. I cannot take it

If i were to ever take my life it is because i don’t think I’m doing it right. Something about me is terribly off, my death is a mere correction a flaw.

I know I’m being far too critical with myself but i cannot help it, I’ve been judged for everything i have tried. Knowing that i am certainly a failure why should i aspire to be more. Of course, i still have a dream, a desire to heal and love others but i fear that when i try to climb up ill fall at the worst time. A fall so high there would be maroon gore splattered everywhere, i might even knock off the person that climbs underneath me.

Killing us both.

do it scared do it weird do it alone. holy trinity

“Breathe. You’re going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you’ve survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They’re painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you’ll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.”

— Daniell Koepke

11 Oct

On the matters of god

A pupil gave a rather brilliant devotions during our school asembly. So beautiful that it still stirs the subject upon leaving school: What do i do when all else fails. I say when as this life is absurd and the most random of things should be expected including absolute failure. MC being a christian of course had a heavily god-centred answer: look to god, leaviu\ng my atheist- self unsatifised and somehow angered by this.

I have lived off the premise that god is not good and therefore is undeserving of my life being held in his hands. But I’m struggling to believe that this answer hold any sense anymore. Rejecting god because of the interpretations of him that humans inflicted on him is somewhat unfair, illogical to judge one based off the biased opinion summoned by others.

And is it worth it? Teh question of hope is completely defeated as the most logical answer is that there is no inherit meaning in life, existentialism. Leaving me hopeless.

How unsatisfied i am with the solution to my despair being indifference as i am very naturally inclined to the ideas that life has its good and bad. Well of course this truth can be attributed to the dogmatic brain that picks and drops and eventually results in a moral compass. Yes it is true that life is indifferent towards our perceptions of it but that is the truth that the universe holds and i am a mere fraction of it.

I no longer believe i am capable of being and doing all. I want a separate being to exist from me that can.

I may need God

Back tracking to the question of hope in terms of failure, i have grown fond of the absurdist belief. Live life happily or do not live at all. I have always thought this philosophy was rather extreme as it less no room for grey, no opportunity to question similar to many concepts of Christianity. Extremism. But by adopting this belief i have found myself on either end - extreme happiness and despair.

Once again I feel like the world is craving in on me. The memory of someone that passed haunts me. What could I have done to make his short life more pleasing, he died feeling distaste for me, how pathetic I am for being with one of his friends.

And what makes this even sadder is that I’ve made my grief all about me. It’s like this disgusting self centred attitude makes path to my selfishness. It scares me.

I don’t know how long I can continue this pathetic life. My one and only vice is gone and now I’m all alone. Melancholy, No one has come up with an easy solution for it. This in turn fuels my desire to give up. My desire to stop trying to be happy and end it.

I was once again threatened with death by another… a figure that was supposed to love me unconditionally but instead hates me and wants me dead. I hate myself and wish I had the strength to kill myself. This act of living becomes increasingly embarrassing and exhausting. It’s so pathetic.

All I can do to stay alive is saw through my skin and listen to dreadful tunes

I feel, so tired.

Ive always thought that j was content with my socail circle. Ive a lot of acquaintances and everyone knows my name. Adults consider me charming and im more than often invited out.

Still i have no one.

Say prehaps a book that is covered in emerald green flowers lays ahead of you. Its pages bent and the spine of it ceased. This book has been pages through a few times but its beauty is retained. You would look at this book and understand that it is not a quick read merely by its thickness. Tis only when you open the book would you realise that its writting is miniature, almost requiring a magnifying glass.

Although this novel is garenteed to interest and change your life, the minor inconveniences make you flee. Leaving the book to be engulfed by ratchet vines that suffocate it.

To make the outside of the book would be the solution to making this novel more captivating. This belief in itself opposes the notion that media presents.

I am not good enough… for i can be better, as toxic as it is, it seems to be a solution nonetheless