sexta-feira, 18 de junho de 2010


I’m such a sick person, always in search of objects to fill the never-ending hole I could name after a Finn. I keep falling over, I keep passing out when I see a face like his, and I’m the only one to blame. I don’t think it matters what’s wrong and what’s right and I don’t think I should believe in such things… All I’ve known from my own, personal, subjective truth is that… it all seems wrong. If I’m part of everything, then I must be wrong too. Or perhaps I’m right, for noticing is wrong. Or is wrong right? Or are wrong and right bullshit concepts to control people? People, who are so easily controlled. Us, the domestic animals. Light at the end of the tunnel, a bright side, a way out… You name it, all sons of the same idea. All rotting the same fruits – us – into thinking bright, thinking right, thinking big, acting happy, fucking chicks, buying cars, polluting our corpses, smoking cigarettes and sucking cocks. Oh, not me.
I’m not happy, I’m not sad, I’m just bitter and faithless. But who’s to say when happiness ends and sadness begins? What’s the line between faith and faithlessness? We’re imprisioned by these words, by this duality that leads us nowhere, and still there’s almost nothing else we could use. I’m going mad, and there’s no one to help me. There couldn’t be, for I’m focusing on what really matters whenever I can, whenever it’s possible. Food for thought, anyone? Philosophy for a living, yes. Maybe. Who knows. It’s all in your mind.

Perhaps I could express it in a song.
But it’s best expressed in silence. Absolute silence.

Um comentário:

dlaire disse...

everyone wants to fill the black hole of desire, we are focused on killing the pain, the hunger, the sadness. depression means something low for a good reason.
happiness is when feeding our needs nourish them instead of killing them. gluttony is the worst sin.

you shouldn't care about truth. i care only about beauty.
as you've already said - we're all trapped in the mazes of words, of names, of labels that we carry.
my love and I share the same name. how narcistic love is? do we love in others only things that are pieces of ourselves trapped in a different body? as i've said, truth doesn't matter. all what matters to me is the beauty of mornings when i feel the calm breathe of the one i love on my neck.