Beneath the scar the truth is buried, so they think. But whether or not memories are the truth, I no longer know. Every day you filter something, no matter if a feeling, a thought or even an event. We tell stories the way we remember it and this makes us liars… technically. Some people don’t like photographs or videos, because they want to remember things their way.  This is not necessarily denial or lying to yourself, not if you believe in fiction. Like I do. In the end – it’s all about the feeling. Fucking feeling.


They are right about mind over matter; here’s the fucking mind determining what to do and what not to do. For example why would I not want to hold my hand in front of fire or hit my head against the wall? Why is the mind cooperating with my will? And why is my body not participating in this debate? It’s too scared to admit that nociceptors are the heartbreakers of the human body! And it’s the heartbreakers that make us human, because pain is mandatory?


I know as a person I have nothing better to reflect other than this. I wish I would think about other things, like learning chess or getting married.


Apathy…at least apathy keeps problematic sentiments off the table. But you know, – me and apathy – it sucks me in like a black hole and it takes a lot of effort to get back out. I’m sorry to inform you that it didn’t get me this time. I told you about my friend indifference, who is a lot tenderer. He doesn’t take me for granted.


He makes me think. If everything is meaningless and only survival instinct counts then what are we trying to preserve? And the answer is who cares? We are here to act, to feed on day and night. We are here to taste and fuck each other as we’re all the same.

Did I just write we’re the same? No, we are not. Each of us is unique and original (with exceptions).  Some have big egos, some have small egos. Some are still waters, some are angry waves and some are dead fish.

But whether or not you are who you are for a reason, I don’t know. It’s your job to know.


How do you practice defence mechanisms if you want to protect your ego? Do you shut others out or do you have to show all your bad to everyone? Either way, I don’t think any of us know how to protect oneself.

If beneath your scar you unfold the truth, why will it matter to anyone? They don’t know you, they cannot comprehend, that’s why it doesn’t matter what you share with people.  They won’t know what to say. They are all so fucking speechless, unlike friends. Friends and people are different species.


Some people judge you by what you find funny, what you eat and what you believe in, as if it matters.


There’s a creature in you that lives on your tears and I want it to starve to death.  If I ever make you cry, I will break my cheekbones, I promise.


Oh self-denial you sexy little minx…


And interesting realization: people think I lack intelligence and confidence, while friends think I lack happiness and freedom.  I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how people  or even friends view each other.  I don’t understand communication, common sense or even reason…basically, being human is…


What you remember won’t ever go away…just to come back to the previous topic in this incoherent blog entry of mine. You keep it in a safe at the back of your head, for good. Why we filter so much, I don’t know, either. Maybe it’s a sign that the truth doesn’t matter.  BUT IT DOES.  I wish the truth wouldn’t push us away so much.

I said lying was not bad as long as you admit it in time. I believe that we all know the truth, because we’re part of it. We’re just incomplete.

I don’t understand why people say we are made of dust, we are made of cells. Dust is what we will become.


It’s hard to hold an ongoing line of things that relate to each other.  My mind is currently fucked, but tomorrow I will forget.

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