23.10.21 2118
Nothing is done without intent. Every action one takes is done with reason. Often times, that reason is simply that he wishes to do something; at the end of the day, is anything done for any reason other than that one wishes to do something? This leads to the questioning of why this website has been created to begin with, and why I am writing on it. The answer is far more simple than I wish it to be: I am doing it because I must. I have no reason. This is being written simply because I feel the sudden need to write an occasional babble in some format. So, gentlemen, before you begin to read, remember that this is not written for you to read. Nor I. Nobody shall ever read this, and so it is pointless to write. I need not write it and have no reason to do so. It is for this reason that I write. How is it so possible for everyone to travel through their days doing the same things? Everyone follows the same cycle for what they do with their life, and everyone's daily lives are on repeat. There is no Groundhog Day, there is merely reality. This is the burden of consciousness. No man is foolish enough to give up the poison which is consciousness. The vile, sickening thing known as consciousness which destroys our lives. Of course, without it, I could not be writing this. Without it, our lives would not exist. That is precisely the point. We love the poison known as consciousness. We crave it. Any intelligent man knows to despise consciousness, but also wouldn't trade it for anything. People are little more than animals. I looks around and I see mice. Not only are they as brainless as mice, not only are they conditioned as though they live in a Skinner's Box, but they do not realize that they are mice. Some stumble around as drunken mice, completely clueless. Others scurry about when they are afraid and otherwise seek out their base passions. Some are portrayed a mighty mice. Heroes. They walk about with their swords and vests and hats, believing they can do something with them. In the end, they are all the same. All equally stupid and foolish. It sickens me to think about. They all go through the same routines, as they have been conditioned to do. They love to follow their routines. Routines are a wonderful thing, but sometimes breaking free of them and letting go is devilishly clever. None of it makes any sense. Something to note is that none of the thoughts I shall be writing will be in any particular order. These are mere ramblings, babblings, with no express purpose and without any real intent. The people I see all follow their lives. They go to school, doing nothing all day except making useless conversation, mindlessly writing lines on papers, and smiling. Smiling like baboons. They go to work and they move around, using their arms and hands to do basic tasks. Their entire jobs are basic tasks with a fancy title. None of it means anything, and yet nobody seems to realize it. They're all content to continue walking around, smiling, as they do absolutely nothing. They bend over and let themselves be ploughed by the few people who are aware of the situation of humanity, but have chosen to exploit it. When I listen to conversations, as I often do, I feel myself nauseous with the taste of bile in my mouth. Why, might you ask, would I feel sick at such a thing as conversation? Isn't this writing a one-sided conversation? To that I would answer, gentlemen, that I do not hate conversation. I simply hate the conversations which I hear. The peoples' ear-grating voices as they drone on about nothing. That's it. They say absolutely nothing and yet talk forever. How is it possible? How can they sit there, making sounds with their mouths, saying absolutely nothing? It both confuses and horrifies me at the same time. Perhaps that shows that we fear what we do not understand. Ultimately, that is irrelevant. My point is that everyone says nothing at all times and still continues to make sounds. When I try to listen, it doesn't take much time for my mind to focus solely on the sickness and to hear the conversation as mere buzzing of random sounds coming out the minds of a braindead species. I see my fellow man doing these things. Scrolling through his phone, looking at bright pictures with no substance and staring at them as though they are straining his brain. As though the processing of the stupid picture is the maximum processing capabilities of his brain. Just as computers were better in the past, so were humans. There was a time when people weren't able to go through their whole days without a single thought. Or was there? Perhaps everyone has always been this incredibly stupid and hardly thought about anything in the entirety of their lives. They are not my fellow men. They are mice, and I am an insect. I wish that I was an insect. In the end, I cannot be one. I do the actions of an insect, and I am treated as such. Yet, I am unable to become an insect.
23.10.21 2138
24.10.21 0750
Nothingness. How is nothingness even possible? This is a question which has troubled me for several years now. If we are to believe in evolution and that the world is one great fluke, then was there ever nothingness? Could there have been an absence of space? If there ever was, then it would mean that God would have to exist in one form or another. If nothingness did exist, that still does not explain how God could have risen out of nothingness. In fact, how did nothingness come to exist in the first place? Everything must be created and destroyed. Creation results in chaos, and chaos results in creation. The trouble is that there is no perfect balance between the two. Even if there was, it would be an impossible standard to hold, considering the way in which people behave. Which came first; chaos or creation? Perhaps, it may be that both were created at the same time. Yes, that seems to be the most reasonable answer to me. How could one have existed before the other if they are both tied together? Chaos created creation, thereby making it a creator. Creation created chaos, thereby making it just as destructive. It is a cycle which never ends and which our lives permanently revolve upon.
24.10.21 0755
24.10.21 0930
If anything proves the existence of a god, it is technology. There is technology which can record voices, and play them back. This is essentially speaking. A complex technology which can be created by man does the same thing that our bodies do, and yet it uses materials instead of humans. It truly is an incredible thing. I do not like photography, but cameras fascinate me. How is it possible to create a piece of technology which can not only see, but can also store the entire thing in all its detail? It can do what humans do, but far more reliable. However, this also makes me fear for the future. It creates an additional level of unknown. Might the self-aware fools who are exploiting their self-awareness to create this technology and manipulate people end up thinking it can replace humans? It's an extremely foolish thought, and yet it seems more realistic every day. Some bags of meat think they can replace us with technology. Technology may be more reliable, but it can never replace animals. Animals were made by this Earth, and not by conscious things of this Earth. Since people are unreliable, the things they create with their unreliable things are the same. This is shown because this technology cannot replicate humans and their biology. Some fools may be trying, but it is impossible. Not only this, but it will never be able to feel the way humans can. That is most definitely impossible. This second point which I make proves that, if God is real, then He is perfect. Humans can never be perfect.
24.10.21 0937
24.10.21 1930
I spend most days doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. All day, every day. Naturally, I go places and do things. It is, unfortunately, necessary for survival in a semi-urban/modern environment. However, this does not change that I do not do anything. As I said earlier about how most people say and do nothing every day, I do very little. There is nothing which seems worthy of doing. Nothing of value comes out of actions. I think all day, but I never act on those thoughts. I never even consider acting upon my thoughts. I go through the motions of the day like everyone else, with a chain and ball on my ankle. Should I stop? I fear what would come if I were to stop. No, not because I am a coward. It is because I believe I am too weak to ever be able to truly escape from this. It is a stone wall which is unbreakable. I do not have the strength to get through it. I despise it with all my heart, and I refuse to recognize it. However, it still exists and I cannot destroy it. Others reach the stone wall and smile and turn around or caress it lovingly and remain there for the rest of their lives. The latter group ends up becoming scientists, mathematicians, inventors, and computer technicians. They all recognize certain boundaries and love that those boundaries exist. Few people capable of thinking in the abstract who don't recognize the wall choose to go into those occupations. It is unforunate, surely, but it is yet another law of life. These laws which just strengthen the wall and build it higher. Why must everything make sense? What makes it so that two times two must equal four? I have read that two times two is four is a wonderful thing, but sometimes two times two is five is a clever little thing as well. This is true. Life is so boring with just two times two is four. Why not let it be something else sometimes? There's nothing stopping you. Your laws and sciences and mathematics are all fiction. Everything comes down to perception. If I don't like gravity, then who says I must acknowledge it? How, you might ask, is it possible to defy gravity? Well, the answer is quite simple gentlement: well...Bah! You all make up these laws and build little boxes to live in. Then you crawl inside and remain inside for the rest of your life, shivering in the cold abyss with only your little cardboard box to protect you. Of course, if you got out of the box and walked far enough, then you would reach the wall. That pesky little wall, the devil! You see it and remain there, in love with it. Those who don't do this end up simply turning around and forgetting all about it. Well, here I am wall! Here I bloody am! I stare directly at you. Through you. You have them all fooled, but not I! I cannot break the wall. However, I do not acknowledge its presence outside of the occasional remark to insult it. I see through it. It is transparent, but still exists. I cannot walk through it or knock it down to get to the other side, but at least I can see what's on the other side.
24.10.21 1945
24.10.21 2123
This is a simple note written as an addition to the previous entry. I contemplated entitling it October - 4 cont., but decided against it. Anyway, I was just contemplating how sickening it is to know that tomorrow I must awaken and begin my week of routines. The same day on repeat for five days until I have two days to spend doing less than nothing and dreading going back to doing slightly more than nothing. I feel extremely bitter at times like this. The dread quickly turns to anger, and then back to bitterness at the world and its stupid inhabitants who make life ever the more worse. Hell is everywhere, every day. Hell is inside of other people, inside the earth we occupy, inside of me and inside of you.
24.10.21 2125
25.10.21 2138
I am a sick man in every way conceivable. My mind is sick, my body is sick, my soul is lifeless. This is the life that anyone capable of thought must feel. They must! How envious I feel when I roam the streets and look at the faces of the happy swine. How dare they! I am unhappy; they have no right to be happy. Happiness is a logical fallacy. It makes absolutely no sense. How can anyone look around at the world and their fellow man and themselves and think that everything is okay? How can they go along their days: smiling, breeding, laughing, joking...How dare they! It is an evil thing, a truly wicked thing. At the end of the day, there is nothing wicked to it. No. Merely a high level of naivety and foolishness. This naivety which plagues our lands and suffocates the human mind. Anyone with consciousness must feel miserable; it is the natural order of things. As a person of elevated consciousness, I must be miserable. I must be wicked in every way imaginable. I am as wicked as they come. As a true egoist must be. However, no matter what I do, I can never truly become wicked. I try every day. It is that conscious effort of trying which prevents me from being truly wicked. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hold nothing but contempt for this world and for it preventing me from being presented with a title. An archetype. I look around and I see people with titles, with archetypes. People are incredibly predictable once you know their type. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for me. I wish to have a title which people can call me and know me as. If I could do anything, I think I would choose to be nothing. In that case, I should like to be a lazybones. I would be a damned good lazybones if I could be one. Alas, I cannot. My only dream is to be a lazybones. I dream often. My dreams are my reality. I spend most of my days pacing (I must pace to think properly) and dreaming about the possibilities. These possibilities I have learned from books more than real life. The trouble with books is that they have a beginning and end. When I was still social, it always drove me mad when I would try to relate a miserable situation to a book, because I ultimately remember that the book had a start and a finish. The book had a genre and everything in it was written intentionally. Remember, nothing is done with intent. Except for my writing. Of course it has intent, I needn't explain that to you. What was I talking about? Ah, yes. Misery. I live a miserable life and I love it. Oh, good sirs, what a lie I have just told. A great clever little lie. I do not love my miserable life. I am ashamed of it, and I am envious of those who are happy. I would never like to be them, but I am still envious of them and despise them. I am ashamed of very much. I am a very vain man, though I wish I was not. I cannot help my nature of vainness. This contributes greatly to my shame. I like to think Bah! What does it matter if I am to be embarrassed? They're just people. They're just people. Yet, I always feel that shame, even though I know they're just people. My kidney hurts.
25.10.21 2150
26.10.21 1725
I often find myself questioning existence. In many ways it makes no sense; it would be far faster to simply list the ways in which it does make even a bit of sense. I know that these answers are not for me, and yet the questions still haunt me. This is yet another burden of consciousness: the questioning of consciousness. I hate questioning things; but, like consciousness itself, I would not give up my nature of questioning things for the entire world. If I cannot question things, then I truly have nothing to do with my day and no purpose beyond breathing and rotting away, an animated corpse. I find myself questioning things every day, including why I question things. In the end, it all means nothing. No important question shall ever be answered on this miserable planet. That is the way of things. That is God's Law. The mice have even named this phenomena: absurdism. Bah! I'll tell you what's absurd; people who ask questions and then are satisfied that they shan't be answered and so they call upon the fact that the question cannot be answered as an answer to the question. This is the entire point and philosophy of so-called "absurdism". Life is absurd, but that doesn't replace the answer to my bloody question! Fools.
26.10.21 1730
26.10.21 2010
I found myself reminiscing upon my early teenage years just a moment ago. My Lord, what a simpler time. Yet, not simple at all. My life was already full of misery and pain since a child. Even so, every day gets worse. Every day is equally as bad as the previous, plus the memory of the previous equally bad day. Each day upon which I write is the worst day of my life. At least back then I had less worst-days. I'm not sure if I genuinely miss being young. My life was no better and it means I have this entire future of mine to dread. Life is awful from the moment of conception.
26.10.21 2014