I’ve spent my life wasting my time, rationalized with words. In terms of my own human life, I’ve reached for a vague sense of meaning, purpose, significance… and value. At least, value of distinct characteristics of instances relatable THROUGH those characteristics measured.

I was lost in the specifics, in the pedantic cycles that WANT to break into an answer that stops the constant motion that becomes meaningless once the reason is realized.

Knowing is what I mean by realizing, but…

Reality isn’t so tangible. Our hands only grasp so much, our eyes can only see a small bit… at a time. We make ourselves from what we experience. Some define those experiences deeper with another (word/meaning-boundary) to mean themselves, and they say they’re what they DO.

But at our limits, we are struck by truth that sensitively lies, as an experience in sleep as dreams, some of which we remember. But death is more than what we are able to remember, it’s to stand, for at least a second.

Like Ace in one piece’s marine fort arc, after he gets saved. For those few minutes, he lives. But he dies defending whitebeards honor, a lesson luffy learned much earlier with the pirates he attacks as a kid when shanks doesn’t respond to the empty threats they represented when they insulted him with irrelevant words.

I ask a question and I ask that you write. It can be as jibber-jabber gibberish as the words I scream like this. As I hear myself, all I want to tell anybody and EVERYBODY else, who’s not me:

TLDR:

a simple exercise meant to be reworded:

Ask yourself, who you are, And don’t answer.

Voices will come.

Listen.

Don’t answer.

But if you do answer anyways…

Don’t hate the screams. Don’t hate any of the answers. Not even the ones you search for.

Maybe you’ll eventually recognize that the moments your thoughts escaped your “peace of mind,” happened. That you’re not forgetful or cursed in any way, that life is WHAT IT IS.

BEAUTIFUL.

I AM SORRY. PLEASE respond to the question title however you deem fitting, even if it isn’t saved forever, it will have happened now. And the mystery of now is enough reach towards, together.

But hatefulness is the only thing I see in the reality of the governments that hold us. Black people in America, Muslims in India, sinners in Saudi Arabia.

Sins relocate, they never die. And reading all of Frank Herbert’s Dune series has made me naively sure of the ancestral memories that lives in our stomach. There lies our truth of love.

I’m sorry. What do YOU value? This is the internet, and I hope you can tell I did not generate this artificially lol. Check the account history, I’m a dumbass. Please do not ban me.

What do YOU value, in reality? In and out of life, of all of any?

Hi. I’ve been afraid of all non-human life since before I could remember. I got past it, mostly, but I’ve never gotten over the fact that animals can’t speak what they mean.

I know that sounds stupid, but fear is irrational and I accept my own.

Anyways, my girlfriends sister has 5 cats that she’s looking to adopt away. I’ve thought recently how nice it would be to have a cat, but I’m scared. I lost my job recently. I’m scared to adopt a cat we can’t take care of. My girlfriends scared I won’t be able to make money to survive. Hell, I’m scared about that too. I’ve been going to therapy for half a year now, and I’ve had a LOT of self discovery along the way.

I think I’m different from the afraid-of-cats-and-all-animals-including-fish-and-hamsters?!?! That I am.

Can you please teach me how cats think? I really want to get a cat, but I didn’t before I got drunk, and I am fishing for support in getting over my fear. I will most likely not end up getting a cat. Can you please teach me facts about how cats work anyways? They don’t have to be general, even just your owns. I’ve seen many cat videos, I get the gist. Kinda. They land so quick and I’m fine getting scratched, but I guess… just not dominated by an animal I can’t understand?!

I don’t know.

Cat facts please? No pressure. Thank you for writing and/or reading, I love you for either.

This is a test. I have lots of textual shitposts to make, waiting to be released from the potential that is my soul, in its experience of my self as separate “parts,” created from memories. So many words. Are you allowed to unironically make copy pasta? This post is gibberish and so am I.

What be the rules? I’m all I’ve ever been and making my way to all I’ll ever be, and I’m also an idiot. How do I fill the hole? “Whole” only lasts so long, why’s the dark gotta be so scary?

Stay glib

Nights dark past days dreamt.

Visions without forms,
Delusions of grandeur.

All alive,
in mouths gaping.

Dreams burst,
of just being,
Of scenes heard,
And not screaming.

Listen,
Don’t lead.

Alone in the silence,
Scenes play of wildness,
Of that irrationally emergent,
Of that potential-packed-peace.

Of the motion that moves,
When intentions cease.

In honest love for knowledge, are there rules to this community? I like to write, and I love knowledge. I’ve read all of Asimov’s timeline, all of Frank Herbert’s Dune series, and I’ve recently gotten into the Red Book by Carl Jung.

I write a lot, and a lot of it is, to passionately reference Jung, from the part of me that resonates with the following passage from Jung’s Red Book:

“I resisted recognizing that the everyday belongs to the image of the Godhead. I fled this thought. I hid myself behind the highest and coldest stars.” - uhh page 31 of the book I have, printed in 2009… isbn 978-0-393-08908-0.

I never learned how to cite properly. Sorry.

Anyways, I write from a feeling, from a place among “the highest and coldest stars,” I know I can never reach.

I worry someone will make this a copy pasta. Please, for the sake of my soul, help me understand where I can blast my words and hear an answer from another person. Someone willing to dissect my gibberish. Im seeing a therapist, I trusted that he could heal me, and he gave me the idea that we’re all made up of very complicated “parts” that are made up of ‘atomic’ parts that can be directed a lot easier than anything understood to be the mystery that our souls/minds/selves really are.

Please, TLDR: Can I write from the heart here and hope for an answer?

Or will I be banned? If so, all I ask is for a link to a place I can truly communicate about topics vague and generalistic. I don’t think my therapist will be able to understand. I’ve told him too much, and I don’t trust his capacity for breadth of soul, though I see how painfully insane I can be, here and now.

Sorry. Again, TLDR: please don’t hurt me :c

I’m already pathetic, but I refuse to let go of hope.

Help? I’m in no danger, but I need some kind of connection, any kind of response to love the source of. I love you for reading this if you read all, and if you didn’t… read Jung instead. He’s got more behind his words, though… in this day and age, hope to be heard is hard to have. That’s why I’m here, spouting gibberish!

I would like to know of a community where I can post things that I write to myself. I’m not capable enough to make my own community yet, and I’ve got a lot to say.

My question, though, is about learning. What’s your single most essential defining piece of advice, to share the love of learning? To make someone who isn’t interested, interested?

Other than necessity, I guess. I hope that doesn’t just answer the question.

I hope this is okay:

You sit there, feeling important. Feeling amazing. You sing, you want to dance, you feel good.

You sit, now, but you only do that to write. You're bobbing your head, you're in love, you're enamored with existence, the leaves are sticky and the wheels are so fast you can only think of their position as speed.

Miles per hour is a beautiful standard, and beauty's hard to come by in math.

But, there's humility to be had. Try, once, to record yourself in something you believe yourself to be confident in that you've never experienced as an interpreter.

Record and watch, or listen. Write, then read.

Then, will you wonder? Or wander? Saunter?

Or, will you for once, believe in the beauty you create? Why let it go, when it's all that you are? More than have, but to BE. Sometimes it might be hard to tell the difference, but you are what you are.

You are what you are.

Hear ye, and be see.

Sight is flight from the now, it's abstraction the allows for retraction, it's love that you can never get enough of, just... see. Be.

Find the do. To be or not to be, There's the FUCKING rub, for each and every option.

Of which there are many, as many as there are any, fucking things to be.

Words have meaning, take what you glean, I hope you can demean, if only... you can redefine.

Just don't, please, don't defile. I'm swimming in words, everywhere, a messy pile.

File your own, revile what you've grown, and start fresh, if you haven't already, in your complicated flesh.