Deep Thinking - Blog Posts

real asf i’m so tired of ts

Friends? Again? Nah.

And If I could go back to the day we met, I’m sorry, but I would turn around and walk the other way.

"You don't love someone for their look, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." ❤️💖

I wish I could turn off my feelings

Feeling sad turn it off

Feeling happy turn it off

Feeling guilty turn it off

But the problem isn't that.....the problem is that the feeling of feeling nothing is also a feeling.

...why can't we just stop feeling

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row row row your boat..

gently down the stream..

merrily..merrily..merrily..merrily..

life is but a DREAM.

Quantum mechanics posits that the world essentially operates on probability. But you know what else operates on probability?

(Wrong answers only)

I have a bit of a silly thought about puddles. Maybe puddles are a glimpse into another world. You can only see it through water, and once it dries up, the portal into the other world disappears. Maybe this is why natural disasters happen. Maybe someone is jumping into a puddle happily and giddily not knowing they are being a districtive force. Maybe this is why natural disasters happen every once in a while. Perhaps we don’t know our own force. Perhaps, someone is jumping into a puddle and causing chaos on our world. Thoughts?

Sometimes

I think about such things as our willingness to breathe and keep on living when all is tragedy. But we are strong because we awoke in the morning because yesterday we did not die, and that is something to be joyous about.....sometimes.

some days going out heals,

some days it drains

socialization is the problem & the solution

your preaching shows your soul.

your practice your strength & determination

🌟Sometimes I'm scared of how

I deny the reality and live inside my head, in the most comfortable corner I've created despite the darkness.

How complex and detailed view are there in my mind about everything I see. I'm scared to be different. Scared to fight with almost everything that's against me. One pain of being different is the fear of being lonely. But the urge never stops itself.

Sometimes I'm scared, I see I'm turning into something I shouldn't. And the scariest thing is, no one ever notices how, a complete stranger from inside, is walking around wearing the old, acquinted shell of their very own girl.

🍁It would be hard for me~

It would be hard for me act indifferent while I'm suspicious and sometimes right, all those pair of eyes in this open world are swallowing me whole while I do nothing but walk alone, beside the stand. It would be hard to breathe while I'm having that ache inside my chest out of anxiety when I listen about others and imagine, how horrible the judgment might be while talking behind someones back.

It would be hard to wake up early in the morning while only 24hrs seem like a huge unknown ocean of "what ifs" and "would happen". It would be hard for me to be lonely with this "bitter" version of myself. It would be hard, nearly impossible for me for not to care what others opine, for I used to grow up amidst compliments and I've learned "how people see us define ourselves ". It would be hard to walk with blacked out visions and endless palpitition almost through my ribs.

It would be hard to see myself being hard on this submissive entity, recklessly pushing herself off the cliff while maintaining that obsessive urge to be "perfect". I choose to be ordinary, I fear I might be inherently "weird" and I'll, along with all the people will judge myself for that.🍁

🖤

It is sad how an everlasting grief is forced upon us. We did not choose this, we were made like this. You can get out of an abusive relationship, but how do you find an out with a physically overwhelming and emotionally draining relationship with your own parents? Nobody ever wrote a guide to surviving that. And how it can crush your soul with agonising pain, a lot harder than any heartbreak or death can bring. I have mastered the art of detachment but this is the battle I do not know how to win. I feel more like a stranger to my parents than any other stranger I meet on the sidewalks.

- Ax

I always used to wonder that for how long will we point at ruins and tell ourselves that this is mercy. I thought mercy was supposed to be peaceful. Maybe, I didn't understand mercy at all. I asked myself: What is mercy?

And I realized, there are two types of mercies. The human mercy and the divine mercy. Mercy, my dears, is like fire.

Human mercy is warmth and compassion. It is the fire that warms you, that pushes the chill away during the coldest winter. It is the hand that picks you up after you have fallen and brushes the dust from your knees and tends to your wounds. Human mercy is about healing.

Now, divine mercy, also known as God's/the universe's (etc) mercy, is more complicated. Divine mercy comes in the form of destruction. It is the forest fire that rages and pillages all that is in the way, and you, more often than not, believe it is the end. But, the forest fire is necessary for the forest, despite the initial destruction. That we must admit. That fire cleanses. It nourishes the soil, it is extremely beneficial for the regrowth of stronger, newer trees and it opens a pathway for the smaller, hidden plants that were overshadowed, to get sunlight as well. It allows for growth, for new beginnings. Divine mercy is about rebirth.

~Me

When did I get so grey. Or maybe I have always been this dull shade of nothingness. I'd like to think that I was once an exuberant yellow just to have something to compare with. To know that I've moved and changed and grown, to know that I had once tasted the sun,that I held it in my gentle hands and for once I didn't burn. But that's a lie isn't it? A comforting one but a lie nonetheless. Maybe I've always been grey.

~Me

" A Legacy "

I suppose we humans are like the very stars whose dust we came from. Each of our individual selves might seem like a speck among other specks in the deep, ebony unknown, but each of us hold such significance that our demise would impact the planets we once held close, the neighboring stars and much more. The blinding light and energy we would create would last for generations, our explosion echoing in the quiet, loneliness, creating just the right amount of power for something else to create, to begin, to bloom, to breathe. And in our deafening silence, the rest of the stars shall bow in respect. Somewhere, light years away, something enters into existence holding a piece of your light in it. A legacy continues from death to rebirth.

~Me

Creativity

You know, I’ve either had a family, a job,

something has always been in the way

but now

I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this

place, a large studio, you should see the space and the light.

for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create

you’re going to create whether you work

16 hours a day in a coal mine

or

you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children

while you’re on welfare,

you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown away,

you’re going to create blind,

crippled

demented,

you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your back while the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment, flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space

have nothing to do with it

and don’t create anything

except maybe a longer life to find

new excuses for.

~Charles Bukowski

"No War"

I looked to the east and there was a war.

I looked to the west and there was a war.

I looked north and I looked south and there was a war.

I looked within and there was a war.

I felt no peace, no safety, no comfort anywhere.

With bone deep, aching tiredness, I looked at the arduous journey before me with quiet, blank eyes.

Whatever my destiny maybe, I started with the war within.

I bled and cried out emotions, pains and fears.

Years of souls haunting me from beyond their graves.

I fought and I fought and I fought.

They whispered sweet nothings in my ears. Their sirens call piercing as they wail and they wail and they wail.

I still fought and I fought and I fought.

And before I knew, their voices grew weak.

They washed over me like sea foam, dull and bleak.

Then I built and I built and I built.

After what felt like centuries, I lifted my head.

I looked to the east and I looked to the west.

I looked to the north and I looked to the south.

There was no war, only peace.

~Me