Fucking confusion...

All my seconds are annihilated by all those tedious desires that I cannot control. My identity is constantly shattered into pieces when I face the wall, the façade of my reality. When lies are washed away, all those little dirty lies, nothing is left standing. My whole world falls down. This strange illusion, all my filthy thoughts, they just tear my world asunder. Wandering, this rootless entity, my own being, I just can wonder where this confusing shit will lead me to. Inevitable death, ineffable feelings.

My paranoia is slowly driving me mad. The world itself has been smothered in non-truth, people are so fucking hysterical. Everything is so bloody diffuse, doors close up and lights go out. It is remarkably planned, everything we can feel through our senses. The world is conspiring to defeat me, I am not meant for this world, and this world is not meant for me. I am just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, being the wrong person.

Will I ever know who I am? Will I ever be able to be myself in this stupid society that I despise so much, but need at the same time? Right now I’m not anyone. I’m not this, I’m not that, I’m nothing.

Antinomy 6: Love Vs. Hatred

Everything’s so fake. People’s feelings are so fragile and unstable. Everybody seeks pleasure making use of any means necessary, without taking into account the consequences that their insatiable desires, their unquenchable thirsty for pleasantness can convey. Do they know what they are doing? Do they know that their fruitless journey will make no sense in the end? Does the end really justify the means, as they say so?

I suppose what I feel is out of the reach of my understanding. I think I am completely unable to love someone truly. Everybody says: “You cannot love people, because you do not love yourself”. That is, actually, thoroughly wrong. I am, myself, the only person I love. I am egocentric, nihilistic, selfish, self-indulgent and narcissistic. As Narcissus, I am lost in my reflection, I have fallen in love with myself and I have closed up the doors that lead to the real world. I am senselessly waiting, passively waiting. I try desperately to seek myself in other people, but they are not me, they bare no resemblance to me, thus, I am not able to love them. Rephrasing: “I cannot love people, because I only love myself”

My nihilistic behaviour shows, apparently, that I deny reality, I reject reality, whatever it is. Rejection begets hatred. I dislike existence itself, at least, it is not indifference. Indifference is the absence of feelings, there is no love, no hate, no nothing. Just void.

Antinomy 5: Relativity Vs. Absolutism

Once, one of my psychologists said: “Everything is relative”, I automatically, almost mechanically, replied: If everything is relative, the statement itself is relative too, it denies itself. If you dare utter the word “everything”, you are falling into absolutisms. Thus, the statement is false, so we arrive at the conclusion that “Some things are relative, others are not”. Both, relative and absolute things co-exist together, metaphysically talking, they need each other to exist. They are the opposite sides of the same coin.

She just took no heed of my words, and suddenly, she brought up another subject. How the fuck could she ignore me in that fucking way and escape from my logical judgements?

We can then ask ourselves: Is everything relatively absolute or is everything absolutely relative? Can absolute truth exist? Or there is only relative truth?

Owari...

Dancing on shit. An everlasting waltz. It never ends, it never stops. I go round and round as the music flows. Flows right through me and tastes my soul. Those filthy creatures, whispering that terrible song. The deepest Hell I have ever heard, seen or beheld. No sun rises there, where all dreams are unborn.

A dirty façade, my naïve wall. It blurs, it hurts and destroys. It does me in, it burns my skin. There is no way I can escape. I am not in Hell, my mind is Hell itself.

Suffering, the tie that binds the strings of my life.

Antinomy 4: Truth Vs. Non-truth

-Our Song-
Tongue-Tied (by Earshot)

Last night I dreamt that you were dead
The only way that I could find...
To clear you from my head
I find it hard for me to get past all the...
Shit you did to me
In spite, at night I try in vain to get my,
Mind back right

Tongue... Tied
I feel so terrified
I'm so sick of being on my own
This feels like suicide
Tongue...Tied
I feel so dead inside

Some things are better left alone
Completely out of sight and mind
Never to be told
I find it harder to express the things that
No one else can see
But me, sometimes I wait for days to get my,
Mind back right

Tongue... Tied
I feel so terrified
I'm so sick of being on my own
This feels like suicide
Tongue...Tied
I feel so dead inside
Struggling in a world that I can't control
This feels like suicide

Some say waiting, and taking my own time,
Is all I can do
Should've known you'd flinch to hide that,
Look in your eyes
I can hear the words
And now I finally understand,
This feeling of uncertainty that leaves me now

Tongue... Tied
I feel so terrified
I'm so sick of being on my own
This feels like suicide
Tongue...Tied
I feel so dead inside
Struggling in a world that I can't control
This feels like suicide
This feels like suicide
This feels like suicide

I feel so dead, so fucked up. I don’t get anything, I don’t understand what I feel. I’m just so fucking lost. I have been in hiding my whole life, my lies have already blurred the vague image of myself I once had. Everything I used to be disappeared. I have become into this amorphous entity. Something that is devoid of sense. Something that is emotionally deprived.

This is just out of control. I pretended to be, always faking. I do not want to be what I am and I am not aware of what I want to be. I would be better off dead. Non-existence lacks suffering, if I died, I would be able to stop thinking, I would slumber in peace at last. “This feels like suicide”.

"There is no truth”, if this statement happens to be false, the opposite, in this case, truth, should exist to give sense and meaning to non-truth. If the statement is true, it contradicts itself, we then arrive at a paradox. How can we possibly be stating something when, actually, what we are saying denies truth? A truth that denies truth? Thus, the statement cannot be true, it is a non-truth, and it proves that truth, at some extent, exists. “Truth exists”

Truth stems from our judgements of reality and our feelings taint every single thought of ours. Our thoughts result from our effort to create our own world in our minds. The will and power to create, to be “worldly gods”. Truth is purely ours, then “Truth is completely subjective”. If this statement is false, it means that truth is not completely subjective, but when we utter that statement we are being completely subjective, so it cannot be false, it is true.

If it is true we can infer that “There is no objective truth”, if this statement were right, we would deny objectivity, so subjectivity would lose the meaning of its existence too. So, it is false. Since it is false we can infer that “There is objective truth”, “Objective truth exists”, but I think we cannot behold it without being tainted by our subjectivity. Objectivity exists to justify the existence of subjectivity. Objective and subjective views need each other. One makes the other meaningful. Their existences go hand in hand. I cannot prove the contrary. I think they cannot exist by themselves.

We can say that, “No logical thought is certain to be true”. If it is false, it means that “All truth is certain”, but since it is a lie, it cannot be certain, it denies itself, so the previous statement has necessarily to be true.

I have arrived at the conclusion that the only --real?-- truth is that “There is no pre-existent truth in this world”. It sounds logical, but I feel that statement still bears fractures. Truth leaks. This world says absolutely nothing, we are the ones that make it speak. We impose our symbols on everything that our will and power desire. We create our own world, governed by our rules, that also reign over our logical thinking. We then become gods, we take nothingness and make the most of it, and turn it to our whole.

Conclusions:
“Truth exists”
“Truth is completely subjective”
“Objective truth exists, but we are not able to behold it”
“No logical thought is certain to be true”
“There is no pre-existent truth in this world”

Griever...

Winterborn (by me)

The everlasting loneliness
The pain, endless
The scars that I kiss
The marks of my grief
The sorrow that cries
My silenced screams
When my winter comes
I'm, again, at home
Everything freezes
Everything withers
Everything dies
A beautiful shroud
Snowflakes
Ash falling down
The remains of my past
Put to dust
Burnt to ash

I was born in Winter. It was a cold morning. That day everything began. I was, violently, introduced to this world. I was given life, a “priceless gift from God”. I could not choose at that time, neither can I now. I’m an empty marionette, and pain holds my strings tightly. I’m spinning round and round, not being able to comprehend the existence of mine and I feel terribly sick, so much illness hides behind my lies.

I have never felt so lonely in my whole life. I really cannot find anyone who I can identify myself with. I feel like a freak, I just do not fit into society. I am not like “them”, I just cannot let myself be carried by human stupidity. Sometimes I wholeheartedly wish I were blithely ignorant. But, unfortunately, knowledge is in inverse proportion to understanding: the more you know, the less you get.

Everyone at some extent needs a drug to soothe their pain. There are so many defence mechanisms, my favourite one is sublimation. It is the refocusing of psychic energy away from negative outlets, toward positive, or the rechannelling of drives which cannot find an outlet. I cut myself in order to fulfill and calm down my innermost drives, desires and tensions. Physical pain draws my attention and “kills” the emotional pain for a very short period of time. Every time you do it, you want more and more, and you go deeper and deeper into your self-destruction. A cold atmosphere takes hold of your heart and you are left to rot in your own shit.

How can I make myself clear? How can I make myself understood? I see things that no-one else can see, I just do not know how to put them in words. In the end, only silence remains. I cover myself with an exquisite shroud of silent lies. Under the veil that smothers my eyes, time freezes and pain becomes everlasting. There is no past and no future, only a gloomy and eerie present that is overglorified and overperpetuated.

Playing Hide and Seek

Tender Sugar (by Mary Elizabeth McGlynn and Akira Yamaoka)

I run I fall what ripped away
check my body now
was it body or soul
the darkness fades, fades to the light
disappearing now
disappears from the night

And all these nightmares I once had
as a child
the morning always came
it came too late
what did my mind forget
forget to hide
could be the nightmare be still awake
I don't know

In or out, up or down
never know its an illusion
round and round, on and on
every day spins my confusion

Not again, not again, not again
from this dream I can't awake
what is real, what is real, what is real
it's getting hard for me to take
what I need, what I need, what I need
a little something I rely
and the white sugar gently hides me

Oh the sweet sugar saves me
it's the room that confines me
confines me
sweet sugar

Yesterday back and forth
broken door no longer opens
breaking down need it now
mother's sugar always loves me

Not again, not again, not again
from this dream I can't awake
what is real, what is real, what is real
it's getting hard for me to take
what I need, what I need, what I need
a little something I rely
and the white sugar gently hides me

Oh the sweet sugar saves me
it's the room that confines me

I love the way the author constantly resorts to the contrast of some ideas, and the repetition of others to emphasize the continuity and the sickening connotation that those words enclose. I can strongly feel that confusion stems from the ambiguity that the overwhelming onslaught of thoughts bare. To express myself simply: suffering impairs the development of one’s life. Pain and dissatisfaction taint absolutely everything, and gluttony turns out to lead your logical thinking. You need something that you can never possibly get and the symbolic satisfaction is not enough to meet the real underlying needs. Sometimes, they are not even conscious, so you are not completely aware of what is missing.

When your inside becomes into a black hole that swallows everything your imagination could stand, you start an endless journey. You will try to find something to fill up the hollowness within yourself, but as you don’t dare face reality, you don’t dare face your real desires, you will eventually not fulfill the task.The answer of one question takes you to another question, an everlasting fruitless effort that leads nowhere. All meaning is, seemingly, lost. You then realize that you have become into an empty container that is waiting to be filled. But the hunger of that hollow can only be temporarily pacified. Void takes you over.

“Sweet Sugar”, a beautiful drug that makes you blind, you belong to it, no longer to yourself. You cover yourself with it, you bury the truth and the lies, and the non-existent borderline between them. You build your self-indulgent Hell, you are imprisoned among those walls, those walls that are only closing in. You are confined there forevermore. You think darkness fades to the light, but you are actually getting blind. You see no longer colours, either darkness. Light drives you crazy and you are left stranded in the middle of nowhere. Everything can go on senselessly, or just stop, but it does not really matter anymore.

Neurosis

"I have frequently seen people become neurotic when they content themselves with inadequate or wrong answers to the questions of life" (Jung)

Neurosis, also known as psychoneurosis or neurotic disorder, is a term that refers to any mental imbalance that causes distress, but, unlike a psychosis or some personality disorders, does not prevent or affect rational thought.

As an illness, neurosis represents a variety of psychiatric conditions in which emotional distress or unconscious conflict is expressed through various physical, physiological, and mental disturbances, which may include physical symptoms (e.g., hysteria). The definitive symptom is anxieties. Neurotic tendencies are common and may manifest themselves as depression, acute or chronic anxiety, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, phobias, and even personality disorders, such as borderline personality disorder or obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. It has perhaps been most simply defined as a "poor ability to adapt to one's environment, an inability to change one's life patterns, and the inability to develop a richer, more complex, more satisfying personality." Neurosis should not be mistaken for psychosis, which refers to loss of touch with reality.

The term connotes an actual disorder or disease, but under its general definition, neurosis is a normal human experience, part of the human condition. Most people are affected by neurosis in some form. A psychological problem develops when neuroses begin to interfere with, but not significantly impair, normal functioning, and thus cause the individual anxiety. Frequently, the coping mechanisms enlisted to help "ward off" the anxiety only exacerbate the situation, causing more distress. It has even been defined in terms of this coping strategy, as a "symbolic behavior in defense against excessive psychobiologic pain which is self-perpetuating because symbolic satisfactions cannot fulfill real needs."

According to psychoanalytic theory, neuroses may be rooted in ego defense mechanisms, but the two concepts are not synonymous. Defense mechanisms are a normal way of developing and maintaining a consistent sense of self (i.e., an ego), while only those thought and behavior patterns that produce difficulties in living should be termed neuroses.

Extract taken from: www.wikipedia.com

Antinomy 3: Existence Vs. Non-existence

These three very different types of possible motivation can lie behind a preference for non-existence that is not coupled with an evaluation that life is not worth living. The dialectical situation is different in each of them. In the “indifference” type of case, the explanation lies primarily with the weakness of the evaluation. Since life is only just barely worth living, there is room for a preference not to have been born, the preference having arisen from anxiety, tiredness, or a fastidious “perfectionism.” In the “suffering” type of case there is, by contrast, a firm positive evaluation of life as worth living, but there is also a strong contrary attraction to the thought of non-existence because non-existence lacks suffering. In the third, “self-dislike” type of case, one recognizes that one’s non-existence would be preferable according to a standard that one accepts, which makes one’s existence (with all of its pleasures) distasteful to one.

Extract taken from:“Ten Moral Paradoxes” by Saul Smilansky

Why do we exist? Is there meaning behind our, seemingly, meaningless existences? Do we have to resort to objective and subjective point of views again? How do we know something exists? What is existence? Why I wish I wouldn’t exist, when I, actually, can’t produce a definition of existence?

When I realize everything is, everything is there, things are things, I am me, and you are you, I get that horrible feeling, that overwhelming feeling of confusion. I get desperate. All those sickening thoughts bouncing in my head. If only I could get rid of them. “The Nausea”, as Sartre calls it. A state of mind in which you try to understand what is out of the reach of our human understanding. You face “existence”, and you get lost in the fruitless effort of trying to add meaning to what is, by nature, meaningless. All colours fade away to black, and a gloomy atmosphere surrounds everything you can possibly see, if you see anything at all.

I wish I hadn’t been born. I think that from all the possible types, the one that best describes me is: “suffering”. I got sort of shocked when I read that you can wish not having been born and think that life is worth living at the same time. But, I still feel that my evaluation of life is negative, not positive. I wonder, am I lying to myself again? Do I really wish to be alive, or I long for death?. I suppose I just want not to exist, since non-existence lacks suffering.

Antinomy 2: Truth Vs. Non-truth

We can state that truth stems from non-truth. But, is there an objective truth? Can any approach to our existences be objective? I think that from the very moment in which we reflect on something we are subjective. We are subjective because we are able to think, but we can think since we exist or we can exist since we think?

The way we see “reality” is then completely subjective. Do objective views exist? Can subjectivity exist without objectivity? Isn’t it from objectivity that subjectivity stems from? Does subjectivity compulsorily need objectivity to exist? I think it can exist by itself, since absolutely no-one can behold reality from an objective standpoint. Any rational judgement will be tainted by our feelings, because our thoughts rely on a basis of feelings, suppositions and prejudices.

Non-truth. Our lies. We lie to a lot of people, but we also lie to ourselves when we keep on trying to deny, vehemently, everything that can possibly surround us. Then our lies become our truth and the line between them, thoroughly, blurs. I don’t know why I try so desperately to seek out the truth, when I, actually, cannot dare stand the fractures that my utopian thoughts bare. I am immersed in lies.

Antinomy: Chaos Vs. Order

Words, spoken or written, are the representation of ourselves. They are the decanting and the spitting image of our thoughts, our feelings, our theories and our suppositions; in a few “words”, they are an indispensable part of us, part of our existence. A part that I consider very important. The absence of our words creates silence, a curious friend of the oppressed, that little by little, creates its own culture: the culture of silence. This interesting absence of sounds and letters only contributes to the development of my dearest friend. called repression. It, somehow or other, protects me, but, at the same time, it mutilates my limbs, it leaves me dismantled and destroyed.

Our words show us the way our thoughts are organized, and our thoughts show us the way our feelings are displayed. But, I wonder, why do antinomies are so overwhelming? Does the bloody war between chaos and order ever end? Is chaos necessary for order to exist? Why can’t order exist on its own? Why do we always have to justify the existence of something resorting to the existence of something else? Isn’t it an annoying habit? Does this world really need chaos to exist? Is it an indispensable part, or it could be extinguished? Can everything be peaceful? Isn’t it contradiction, when all Verities are on the tightrope and they become acrobats, the origin of truth?