(no subject)
I figured it's time that I update. I have very little to say, or little I'd like to say, mostly because I frankly don't give a fuck about any of you. This shouldn't come as a surprise, I doubt I seem even remotely sympathetic to anyone who has spent a minute of their time talking with me. I've never been very compassionate, I tend to address people calmly, but with a cold indifference, apparently it's intimidating.
Signs of an apparent lack of affection date back to my days as an infant (so I'm reminded by parents and close family). Perhaps I was held too little, or too much. Either way I'm currently tormented by the constant need to hold someone, I realize that's probably not the most masculine thing I've ever said, but it's become a constant reminder of how I've succeeded in isolating myself (for whatever reasons) and it manages to seep its way into all of my daily routines (designed to create a distraction that no longer functions as it should.) The effect is more physical than it is emotional, I've intellectualized and complicated my emotions (initially springing from the most trivial of things) to the point where they no longer influence me, except of course the daily dose of melancholy that slowly undermines the most promising elements of my life to my satisfaction, but that feeling has become so familiar it's hard to even recognize it apart from my usual perspective.
It's in my nature to see things in high contrast, and depression helps with that.
Though it may seem that I describe myself as a pathetic figure, I'm incredibly arrogant and like to think of myself as entirely separate from humanity. In other words, I'm not even granted a realistic outlook on my self destructive mindstate, that seemingly verges on collapse (and hopefully a complete lack of consciousness) only to revitalize itself for the sake of experience (It seems that at some level my life means something to me, particularly when threatened with total destruction.) Though I may never be able to enjoy life at any stage, and I seem to live and breath in opposition to it, occasionally I feel inspired when the temporary nature of things (one of the more beautifully subtle and elusive realms of consciousness and physicality) suddenly becomes apparent to me and anyone else paying the slightest attention. I'm not sure I can ever really explain this concept in full without losing my train of thought, it's quite possible it's completely internal, another meaningless product of a mind balanced precariously on the edge of total insanity. Nevertheless, it's reassuring.
I'm empowered by the fact that in an instant I can destroy all objects, people and all practicalities with the end of consciousness. Think of it is my last attempt at vengeance, but without the desperation and confusion usually associated with such an act. Instead I'm faced with firm resolve, and an intensive clarity that's been far more supportive than the loose guidance of the usual emotional indulgence (a fragile system of action and analysis that's governed my life up until this point.)
And so it begins.
Signs of an apparent lack of affection date back to my days as an infant (so I'm reminded by parents and close family). Perhaps I was held too little, or too much. Either way I'm currently tormented by the constant need to hold someone, I realize that's probably not the most masculine thing I've ever said, but it's become a constant reminder of how I've succeeded in isolating myself (for whatever reasons) and it manages to seep its way into all of my daily routines (designed to create a distraction that no longer functions as it should.) The effect is more physical than it is emotional, I've intellectualized and complicated my emotions (initially springing from the most trivial of things) to the point where they no longer influence me, except of course the daily dose of melancholy that slowly undermines the most promising elements of my life to my satisfaction, but that feeling has become so familiar it's hard to even recognize it apart from my usual perspective.
It's in my nature to see things in high contrast, and depression helps with that.
Though it may seem that I describe myself as a pathetic figure, I'm incredibly arrogant and like to think of myself as entirely separate from humanity. In other words, I'm not even granted a realistic outlook on my self destructive mindstate, that seemingly verges on collapse (and hopefully a complete lack of consciousness) only to revitalize itself for the sake of experience (It seems that at some level my life means something to me, particularly when threatened with total destruction.) Though I may never be able to enjoy life at any stage, and I seem to live and breath in opposition to it, occasionally I feel inspired when the temporary nature of things (one of the more beautifully subtle and elusive realms of consciousness and physicality) suddenly becomes apparent to me and anyone else paying the slightest attention. I'm not sure I can ever really explain this concept in full without losing my train of thought, it's quite possible it's completely internal, another meaningless product of a mind balanced precariously on the edge of total insanity. Nevertheless, it's reassuring.
I'm empowered by the fact that in an instant I can destroy all objects, people and all practicalities with the end of consciousness. Think of it is my last attempt at vengeance, but without the desperation and confusion usually associated with such an act. Instead I'm faced with firm resolve, and an intensive clarity that's been far more supportive than the loose guidance of the usual emotional indulgence (a fragile system of action and analysis that's governed my life up until this point.)
And so it begins.