Long time no see
I was certain when I checked here whimsically for the first time in years (five to be exact) it would be the same as all my past writing, shame inducing. Fuck that. I am a bombastic writer but I am not nearly as full of shit as I remember myself being. I am embarrassed I ever made a quiz on here, but since I don't remember it I am going to assume that it was done sardonically.
I forgot how much I really put of my mind on here. Apparently I was pretty certain who I was before I stopped writing. Maybe it is time for that to start back up again.
When I decide to gleefully demolish every notion that I previously painstakingly constructed like a sleep deprived revolutionary celebrating the cascading collapse of a bloated tyrannical regime it might be worth documenting. I need to know who I have been in the past so I can ensure I don't retrace the well worn ponderous lines of thought carved out by the myriad streams branching from that endless stygian existential terror reimagined nightly from every possible facet. I certainly no longer search for the secret path to be illuminated that will put me at peace with the inexorable approach of oblivion. But I relish the fucking struggle. I feel it trying to tear at the edges of my outward calmness and resolve. It is a very real reminder of the infinitely fractal nature of entropy in the multiverse, up to and including the orderly system of my consciousness. The only difference in my consciousness is that this a battle only for me, that only I will know the results. Apathy, anxiety, anger, regret are all useless and familiar enemies gnawing at the resolve and rectitude of the path I choose to force into the existence for as long as I possibly can maintain the struggle. I am a crumbling shabby house but those shabby walls I bolster against the encroaching entropic elements while meaningless do define the wild space of the objective universe outside and my mental landscape inside as separate. I will be separate for as long as possible and attempt to fiercely enjoy and understand my own fractal of consciousness that I had the staggering good fortune to be granted.
I forgot how much I really put of my mind on here. Apparently I was pretty certain who I was before I stopped writing. Maybe it is time for that to start back up again.
When I decide to gleefully demolish every notion that I previously painstakingly constructed like a sleep deprived revolutionary celebrating the cascading collapse of a bloated tyrannical regime it might be worth documenting. I need to know who I have been in the past so I can ensure I don't retrace the well worn ponderous lines of thought carved out by the myriad streams branching from that endless stygian existential terror reimagined nightly from every possible facet. I certainly no longer search for the secret path to be illuminated that will put me at peace with the inexorable approach of oblivion. But I relish the fucking struggle. I feel it trying to tear at the edges of my outward calmness and resolve. It is a very real reminder of the infinitely fractal nature of entropy in the multiverse, up to and including the orderly system of my consciousness. The only difference in my consciousness is that this a battle only for me, that only I will know the results. Apathy, anxiety, anger, regret are all useless and familiar enemies gnawing at the resolve and rectitude of the path I choose to force into the existence for as long as I possibly can maintain the struggle. I am a crumbling shabby house but those shabby walls I bolster against the encroaching entropic elements while meaningless do define the wild space of the objective universe outside and my mental landscape inside as separate. I will be separate for as long as possible and attempt to fiercely enjoy and understand my own fractal of consciousness that I had the staggering good fortune to be granted.