I thought it was useless to continue to write most of my asssurdi mental journeys, even thought it was useless to continue to draw. I thought a lot of things wrong.
Why should we stop doing what we like maybe it was just because sad or what we like because it is not directly useful for specific purposes or objectives prefissatisi for their lives? Objectives which, among other things, probably never reach and that, often, are goals that we ourselves have data, but which are totally wrong and inappropriate to what we really are.
The problem is, in fact, not knowing what we really are. I always say: "awareness is the key." Not only I say, if you do not trust me. What then, I did not even conoscte and already do not trust? You are always the same, there is nothing to be done.
I said, "what we do - pia - ce. And if I did not know what I really like? And if there for years we were hidden in false pleasures? And if, instead, for years we lied to ourselves and pretend that the easiest way, and the worst and most insidious form of all fiction? And if, again, for years had tried to "grow" abandoning the passions? Now all we would end up with a mess on his head to say the least massive, rather small but very concentrated, like a deadly poison.
again, and if you knew very well what we love, that makes us feel good, but at the same time what makes us feel good (or as I said, our "passion", if you will. Although the concept here of passion and the love / what makes me feel good I might quibble for another hour, but - for now - let me lose. is that, once accomplished / done / finished / eat / swallow / drink / fuck / love / seen / drawn, it makes us feel bad? If all you want is also all that then destroys us and makes us feel empty, or worse, dirty and full of guilt?!
If so ... What do we do?!
We love and suffer? Play without laughing? Or maybe fuck and cry, like those little men who whimper during intercourse?
I think all these assumptions and these questions have made me lose the thread of real speech. I jumped on a radically different from the start, but I'd say it's okay.
We said, if it was all so complicated? Stupid question. In fact all these "complications" are not "real hassle, indeed. They simply are the result of our ignorance, our "will not do anything," of our being disgustingly spoiled, our "I always have to complain" and, of course, lead nowhere.
Things are actually much simpler. The problems, real ones, in the end all you help. Awareness, only she can be your friend, not "people" (generalized, and that no one is called into question because they misrepresent the words is something I hate).
Anyway, I should go back to what I wanted really say, but you know, I am not good at speaking, I am not able to go out and even writing.
Maybe I will refrain this time from him even say what I wanted.
Maybe I just lost time, once again. I do it too often. (Take note: stop wasting time.)
Maybe what I just detot is wrong, because Øvre stop wasting time? Sometimes "losing time" wonderful things happen, you meet wonderful people (even horrible, it goes without saying).
No, take note: do not stop wasting time. More than anything else I really should start again to lose time ... Maybe start writing again, drawing, painting, photograph and read as much as I did at one time.
I should. We should all.
I should also love me a little 'more, but I have never done that, but that's another story. This also let it be.
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