“I’m sad. I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” *but secretly, I DO want to talk about it, so I hope you keep pressing me for information*
-most people
“I’m sad. I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” *no, really, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, so stop asking me. Just leave me alone for a bit, for Christ’s sake.*
-me
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Anonymous asked:
Update your motherfucking blog more, you're the only one I'm following, because everyone else I used to were fuckass idiots and let undesireables get ahold of my blog. -Chef of Death Mr. or Mrs. “Chef of Death”,
I apologize for the recent inactivity of my blog, as I have been rather “busy” lately. i.e. IB has been sucking my very existence away and my social interactions with people have been limited to say the least.
Unfortunately, I don’t anticipate these things going away, HOWEVER, I will try to update my blog more frequently :P
I honestly havent had that many things to write about (that are appropriate for the internet), which is the main reason why my blog is gathering dust. |
Paradoxically…“One of the most interesting effects is the feeling of awakening for the first time ever from a previous state of sleep, of liberation from what is now seen as a life-long state of bondage. Paradoxically, it is this new awareness that feels normal and natural and the previous fog is seen to have been unreal all along.
The individual is convinced that, once gained, this awareness is impossible to lose, but inexplicably by the next day it is just a memory.”
I don’t know.
That’s just it, I guess-
I just don’t know much anymore so why
do you bother me with words that just stumble in my ears
and get tangled up with lies and lines and pre existing nets
called bias or regret.
So this turns from all of you to her to me.
it wasn’t all meant to bleed
out for my mistakes
or the smiles I try to fake;
I know the lion’s bread will feed the sheep,
i just have a lot of trouble eating in my sleep.
“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”
What do people gain from all their labors
at which they toil under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which one can say,
“Look! This is something new”?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
No one remembers the former generations,
and even those yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow them.
