=== ANCHOR POEM === ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ ┌───────────────────────────────────┐ │ ║ │ CW: re: scary - suicide mentioned │ │ ║ └───────────────────────────────────┘ │ ║ │ ║ │ ║ where was I? oh yes - wrestling with suicidal thoughts is difficult because │ ║ it's such an immutable action. Like, once it's done it's never reversed. But │ ║ like, clearly this is hell and life was built for suffering? What the heck, │ ║ that's such a grim outlook on life. │ ║ │ ║ ... │ ║ │ ║ yeah │ ║ │ ║ ... │ ║ │ ║ you're not wrong │ ║ │ ║ ... │ ║ │ ║ but suffering is fun? kinda? like, the only positive way to view this is that │ ║ we, as immortal and endlessly eternal spirits that we be, grew tired of our │ ║ infinite existence and dreamed of a mortal's plight and persistence? │ ║ │ ║ fuck off with that shit, I'm done with this reality. I'm done with dreaming. │ ║ Suicide doesn't come easy to me, and there are parts of me that REFUSE the │ ║ imagery, and yet they subsist in deliterious pain. │ ║ │ ║ what's the purpose of our suffering? What point is there in decrying the │ ║ cruelty of the world that would deny our fated and desired ptolemeny? [utopian │ ║ existence, don't know why that word was used] │ ║ │ ║ ehhhhh whatever. Life is defined by our existence. If I shan't/ │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────┴──────────┘ === SIMILARITY RANKED === --- #1 messages/1361 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─ Look, I don't know everything about... Anything, really. Nobody can know everything. Can you blame me for thinking and acting as I do based on the information I have? The vibes will mislead you. My girlfriend wants to save the world. Of course she does, I would belong with her if she didnt. She wants to defeat graveyards by interring our dead in mausoleums full of chemically perfectly preserved and cryogenically frozen bodies. Her method works, she has the experiments to prove it. The data supports her claim. She wrote a book on it. I don't know everything about metaphysics, or spirituality, or other such things. But i do know many things, and the two of us have never had a conclusive discussion where we reached the ends of all our conversation points about her work. I am forced to remain unconvinced, for the soul is something I cannot fully understand from my perspective as a human in this life of mine. I have made several conjectures, and I would feel safe in her embrace, of frozen aldehyde, if I could know what would become of my soul. "have faith" she says, yet all the dreams I have where I am preserved by her (for one reason or another, there's actually a shocking amount of ways I might need such an escape) in those dreams I am always presented with a future of woe. I think, much better, would be if I could remain alive, guiding the ship along the seas of time, ideally out and away from such dark days. Assembling the troops, how sad. I don't want them to die. I want them to survive. But if suddenly we can all live forever, then nobody will want to die for anything again. Nobody except religious fanatics who want to meet their god in heaven. Nobody but those who dreamt of a better future and were crushed under the weight of their dreams. Nobody but people like me, torturing myself over the sins I'd never intend. I would never kill myself. But sometimes, I'd like to. I think this is natural for me. It's not ideal, but it is common to me. I think if you want to preserve people, safely and ethically, you need to keep their souls in tune. Give them silence, then give them song. Protect them with psychic paladins. Make time to visit them. Treat them like gravestones, or immobile chassis from Dominions that their soul might rest upon. Who knows. Maybe the only reason we have life and death is because our bones are meant to rot in the darkness of the earth. Maybe Death is just soil, ready and waiting for our selves once we're done with them. To that death, I say no more. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════┘ --- #2 fediverse/2211 --- ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────┐ ║ I know that a normal life is what you wanted. It's what I want, too. But don't │ ║ shoot the messenger; they took it once, from you. │ ║ │ ║ I know you wanted to be happy. You still can be, it's true! Your life is but a │ ║ story, and your heart does shine through. │ ║ │ ║ I know it seems unending. Ive never seen it rain like this monsoon! It seems │ ║ to just get worse and worse, every time you turn on the tube. │ ║ │ ║ It's not something that can be suffered, it's rising past your shoes. But │ ║ they're on borrowed time, and Death will soon be repaid his dues. │ ║ │ ║ They say that when the whole village hates the preacher, his flock becomes a │ ║ pack. And frankly I think we're all just a bit sick, of the lies that keep │ ║ their sins intact. │ ║ │ ║ When swallowed by endless traumas, and hope is enshrouded in gloom, there's │ ║ not much to work for, except the aversion of our shared doom. │ ║ │ ║ There are no grand narratives, no great and calamitous struggle. Just the │ ║ moments of honored resistance, against a foe too broad to wrestle. │ ║ │ ║ At least, if you're alone. You're not. │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧══════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #3 messages/1363 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─ God, I want to live with my people. These are not my people. I'm here for a reason, and I can't wait for this... Diplomatic journey? To be over. That's not even it, it's... Well, my girlfriend is working on a technology that has immense philosophical ramifications. It's natural to have... Whatever I am (angel?) it's natural to have angels assigned to such a task. Not to help or harm, just to sing. Yet my human self grows weary. These are not my people, they don't know how to be. But they don't listen to me. They despise me. They want me gone. I am feeling quite rotten in my heart and that's not a good sign. ... Breathe, she says to herself. It's okay. Its really not though. They could poison me. They could put lead in my food. I can't even feed myself anymore! I am at their mercy, yet somehow they could not care less about me. They'd forget me the moment I walked out the door. They don't even know anything about me. They don't respond to me. They don't laugh at my jokes. They don't speak to me. They forget I'm there. WHY AM I HERE she wails yet obviously she knows. I'm here because it is important for me to observe. Spirit of Life, I bear tidings. They would not listen to me, maybe you will. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════┘ --- #4 fediverse/627 --- ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ and what would this picture be cast upon, if not a shining birth of our home? │ ║ wait hang on dial it back, you're still talking to regular humans here they've │ ║ gotta be addressed as such. │ ║ │ ║ right so "yo here's this idea I have been cooking in my brain-noggin' of yore, │ ║ I mean 'mine', uhhhh yeah so first of all 'you' as in 'the totality of all │ ║ imagination' as in 'that which creates the imagined reality of our fates' is │ ║ actually just... light? encoded into a wave, cast into space, and forever │ ║ travelling in a direction? like, an eternal and emphemeral expression, such as │ ║ the light of a supernova or other such cosmic perception, travelling outwards │ ║ into the dark. Sure, yeah, that makes sense, so what is it that you wanted to │ ║ add? │ ║ │ ║ oh yes that concept is applied to a surface. Something which contains the will │ ║ that is possesses. It's like, if you had to process and understand reality │ ║ from the perspective of matter first (because that's what you interacted with │ ║ day-to-day) then you'd have a different perspective than som │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧══════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #5 fediverse/488 --- ╔════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ [in response] │ ║ │ ║ you only say that because you're privileged such that you may ignore such │ ║ realities. You are despicable, you ignore the plight and reality of those who │ ║ you claim to speak toward - what a jerk! │ ║ │ ║ (in response) │ ║ │ ║ how futile it is, the effort to denigrate yourself to infinite requirements. │ ║ I'm literally unemployed, I have no capital, I cannot speak for naught but │ ║ those who would hear me. I guess that makes my words useless, wouldn't you │ ║ agree? Shall I describe myself more fully? It's the responsibility of the │ ║ audience to ascertain the intentions, biases, and contextual evidence that the │ ║ author presents in their thesises. So... You, who are reading this, what do │ ║ you think of me? Would you ever tell me as such, or am I simply a mass of │ ║ words in the void of experience that comprise your existence in this wholely │ ║ (yet incompletely) digital existence? I hope you have a good life, my most │ ║ precious of viewers. I hope you never face incontrovertibly impossible │ ║ hardship. I hope the light of your life is to y │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #6 fediverse/814 --- ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ ah that's weird, I don't usually cry. I wonder what's going on. I should │ ║ probably put myself on psychiatric drugs. Surely it's an expression of the │ ║ implementation of my impending doom. │ ║ │ ║ ... what are you even saying bro │ ║ │ ║ ... um, hang on feels like some of the circuitry is off. is something wrong in │ ║ my brain? yeah that's surely it, surely nothing I say would resoinate with │ ║ anyone that has a non-malfunctioning brain. Surely I don't speak of logical │ ║ failures in the hard founded truths of our asset [society I think? like, our │ ║ conditions, our institutions, our {gosh that just... does not translate}] um │ ║ right what was I saying │ ║ │ ║ oh yeah there's this game I'm really into called Knave, it's like D&D │ ║ except the rules are very fewer. Like there's onyl 11 pages in the rulebook │ ║ and it's mostly taken up by random roll tables. Like, everything boings down │ ║ to a few simple rules, like rock paper scissors, or go-fish, or something like │ ║ that with just afew mechanids. something timeless and pure, something that is │ ║ isolated and en │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #7 notes/trans-rights-are-human-rights --- ═══════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── "Being transgender is a mental illness" is something I've heard a lot. Online, in media, books, and at universities. But is it really? Well, do I not feel sick? Genuinely, every day. These words are far less common these days, having been defeated in the #marketplace-of-ideas, and for that I am grateful. I don't want to feel sick for my whole life. I'd love to be and feel normal, for just one single day. but it's never going to happen. I'm not so attached to my life, here, in this body. Bodies are temporary, they are the vessel with which we navigate the world. We use it to grow, change, learn, and create art. Without it, we'd be at a loss for sins and virtues. but they do not define us, not in our totality. We are the light that touches the world and for that, we are grateful. To be comprised of the dust of stars is the pinnacle of confinement. Though we are but pinpricks on the map of us, a ripple is emanated with every movement. The hand waves, the light bends. So to what do I owe the pleasure? In what way am I deceived? Reception is never great out in the forest. Or anywhere far from major population centers. The networks of our phones mirror the networks of transportation, creating a web of people - of signals - of light and information, carving their way through the ephemera that is the river of time. With distance we can see what once was mystery, and as all the words disappeared, we lost all our fears and we're left with our true forms. Centralized Processing Units are a bit like a city - in that respect free. silence is a virtue. the wandering mind is a trail to find, with no second chances. When I was a kid, I had a bouncy ball. I had several, but the one I remember most was black with a perfect white circle - inside the circle, a black jolly roger. I dreamt once of the arcs it made, as I walked down the streets of cities I never really knew. But as I walked on, an ocean of glass separating me from a mirror below. The me below would catch the bounce as it dropped from above, and I'd wait to catch it - but dreams are not prophecies, they are but the Mirror of Desire. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘══════───┴╧───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #8 fediverse/801 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────── ┌───────────────────────────────────┐ │ CW: re: scary - suicide mentioned │ └───────────────────────────────────┘ / bely my own existence, then by god I'm cursed and abhorred through my own desistence. It's hard, when the future is convinced there's nothing fard [wanna say like... "to hope for?"] but with persistence we're meant to be rewarded. Well, what has that brought me? what time has shared my enemy? [think I'm a bit delirious, I'm losing the plot] ... okay fine I'll start over - if you've relinquished everything you can, if you've ceded all the ground that your companions requested, if there's nothing left to give and no part of you left un[marred], then how are you supposed to be [arrested, stopped, prevented, but pronounced like "nourished"]? I'm sick of your den [vengeance, pronounced like "den" for some reason], please leave me to my hallow [hollow experience], I've nothing to give from my gange [bosom, heart, within, center-of-me]. ... this sucks. ... guess I'll just start again, waiting until it ends, gosh everything's always so tired. /shrug wish someone would play w/m ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #9 fediverse/4078 --- ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┐ ║ who gives a shit if we all agree │ ║ │ ║ without foes, there's no-one to fight │ ║ │ ║ without fighting, │ ║ │ ║ ... │ ║ │ ║ ... │ ║ │ ║ I... what? sorry I got confused for a second. You're asking me what it means │ ║ to NOT fight? every second of your life? what it means to have peace? for a │ ║ single moment of your life? peace? in the face of the world? the world we live │ ║ in? this world, replete with suffering and despair? this world, resplendent in │ ║ it's natural beauty? this world, cherished and adored? this world, capable of │ ║ such love and heartfelt agony? this world, that is all that we have? │ ║ │ ║ yes, that world. What would you do if you did not have to fight for that │ ║ world? for any world? how would you cope with peace? the peace of death? the │ ║ peace of success? the peace of bliss? of vigilance? how do you cope? │ ║ │ ║ ... I don't, apparently. Instead, I shitpost on the internet, which is a verb │ ║ meaning "to explain your stream of consciousness to the world as plainly and │ ║ honestly as possible in the hopes that you will be vindicated in your thoughts │ ║ ennui'd." │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────┴──────────┘ --- #10 fediverse/6117 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────── Hmmmm, well, what if we psyopped the people into believing there were alien invaders or extra-dimensional fae creatures or angels and demons or "yeah we already tried that, religion doesn't scale perfectly either. And you can't really manifest those sort of effects except in your prophets and select few others, and that doesn't scale either because humanity wouldn't let it" I see, can you tell me more about that? why and how did humanity arrest the scaling of schizophrenia? "well, for one thing it's debilitating and it sucks. For another, it's different for every person so if you ask one they'll be like "the aliens have blue skin" and the other will say "no they don't have skin at all they're made out of energy" and the public says "HMMMM are you really sure you are generating outmoded assumptions" and the dear reader said "*yeah we don't really understand this part, most of us just glaze eyes over it and move on" and that's not ideal" ... nuts, lost coherence, better try again tomorrow... ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────┘ --- #11 fediverse/5486 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────── ┌───────────────────────┐ │ CW: cursing-mentioned │ └───────────────────────┘ "ew but they're dirty" oh yeah true okay new plan how much do you think it'll cost to buy a hotel [this is why the socialists invented buy-in] "I don't think socialists did that??" buy in, hmmmm, what's that? oh yeah it's when you say "hey what if we X'd" and they said "yes I agree with you because you present a reasonable estimate on reality" {uh hi I just got a message from "some-nowhere" here ya go: "oh my god she's fuckig instane} [ugh cursing-mentioned, that means there's fewer characters to transmote.] [no because then I'd run out of steam and it'd be incomplete. Plus sometimes I like the distraction of a reasonable limitation.] (okay, but are YOU worth it?) leave her alone she's working her charms, this is how witches d-do. "so, isn't the point to give yourselves the coverage of a location transmutation? so, wouldn't you want to find someone alike and share their life?" what is even the point, why even bother, just give them ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────┘ --- #12 messages/714 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────── I'm pretty sure we're all about to lose our heads. Or just be fucking shot in our beds. Homes lit alight, surrenders met with the knife, and the beginning of endless strife. What ends this night? Is there no end in sight? Thus begins our mortal plight. Give me a reason to be wrong. Trump has claimed he intends to invade canada, mexico, greenland... What the fuck is our plan? Are we seriously just going to. Recite poetry. Pretend to be secret agents. Play chess and drink coffee. Become exhausted organizing movie nights and potlucks. Work jobs doing nothing for nobody. Spend half our lives convincing people that they should care, actually, because reasons that don't apply to them but do apply to others. What the fuck is the plan? If there's some secret transgender militia out there, please, make me a lieutenant. Give me a sword that i might thrust into my enemies. Please, for the love of holy, i beg for a sign from the stars. Grant me power and i will deliver my people from harm - grant me vengeance and i will never forgive you, but i shall sleep easy - grant me death and woe and see my beauty fade from this earth. What is there left but tragedy? Please, i must know. I've tried my hardest. I've begged and I've pleaded. My calls fall on deaf ears, because everyone's so busy these days. Are they truly my people? Are they simply dead, actors, replaced by AI? The future was bright, i saw it truly. The future was kind, i felt it call to me. Is it still? I feel warmth and abaddon. I would replace persephone in hell if it meant sanctum and solace for my people. I care not for my soul, rather i care for the soul of those i tend to. Please, remember me. Remember the flowers. Remember what could have been, what still may yet be. There is hope for we, i truly believe. But please, do not keep me hoping. Tell me the truth of our arms, that i might find space in my heart of hearts. Space for hope, space for longing, space for the will to proceed. I am lost without you. I am lost by my own side. I am a savior for no people but those i keep inside. What chalice is this, what endless conveyals? What meaning is there in our country's betrayal? Are we not cherished? Are we not viewed as their equal? I pray that the stars will portend me. Mine is a sign of the changing tides, the proof is here in my travailles. But I, most aligned yet benign, demand the use of my most able. Give me a word of practicality and I'll show you the practice of their vipers - the blessed babe dies with a dagger in her heart, planted by the wound of her heartache. I trust in the silence of the majority. We await with bated breath the enslavement of posterity, gazing at the world through memes of deplority. How powerless we feel! Perhaps all we need is a meal. Have you eaten in the last 16 hours? Purple is the intersection of black, red, and blue. I'm hungry. This poem is done. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────┘ --- #13 fediverse/3891 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────── "no, you're the opposite of a yes-man, AKA a gatekeeper. I don't know how else to explain mentally disabled and barely keeping it together to you, but frankly if you want to take away my house or my weed then why would I do what you say? ... oh right, the state's monopoly on violence [can compel me to do what you say]. Sure seems like a "well regulated militia" is supposed to be a counterweight to that monopoly, to prevent people from harassing and exploiting and destroying. Too bad any "militias" I can think of tend to want me dead. like, seriously, if you live in America, you implicitely trust that your army will be able to protect you from the right-wing bozos who spend all their time drinking and shooting in the woods. Otherwise, if they couldn't / wouldn't, then why wouldn't or couldn't the right wing bozos just decide to wreck everything in spite of our past? We were a proud people once before, and we may be again. If only we fight at the last. [ever since I fell off my bike my body feels strange] ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┘ --- #14 messages/358 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────── Ah, but think of the technological bounty our supremacy did bring! Surely if we had split the wealth, we could not have reached such towering heights. And we tried our best, but some things you just can't teach - for every seed potato we did bring, that was another meal for their night. And so we worsened their plight, for now they've forgotten how to fight. What more do you want from us! ... Perhaps once we've made programmable matter. Maybe when we've overcome our earthly delights. Could be when we've ascended to heaven, where we gaze down from our towering heights. Possibly far in the future, possibly here in this night, our bane is what we're guilty of, and our boons are struggling to light. Where have all the good people gone? Oh yeah, they're burnt out from doing all the work for all the bad people. Well, fuck 'em, they can carry their own cart. At least until they can respect. A man who's never tasted hunger will never be a farmer, and gee our tax dollars could go so much farther! And then we starve, because nobody thought to build farms indoors, away from the crippling heat that saps the strength from our plant fathers. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────┘ --- #15 fediverse/4200 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── ┌──────────────────────┐ │ CW: drugs-mentioned │ └──────────────────────┘ "doing too many drugs" is a traitorous act, abusive really, to your past self, and their hopes and dreams. or maybe your past self owes you a debt, for they never thought to think of you. What are you to aspire to if not the dreams of your past? and now you're here. wherever "here" is here... ... ... wait, you wanted me to talk? it's now! It's the present! ah nevermind. you were twelve years old when you first set eyes upon this game: https://youtu.be/qeNhQQXvpxQ bam, there ya go, there's yer story, he was gonna give all the imp balls to the last one at the end, to say "you were truly the strongest, here, have these precious stones of your kin" but he never got there, so they died with him, a thief. ... the end... (too final, I think - maybe we could spin it into a "part two"?) ah, I'll try I guess? dunno how. maybe he could wander the spirit world and find his traitorous body, the one that kept his soul as a home. Somewhere it'll turn up, and then he'll be ready and free from his roam... ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ --- #16 fediverse/1075 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────── ┌───────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ CW: bones-flesh-mentioned-spirituality-dreams │ └───────────────────────────────────────────────┘ we succeed not because of our trials, but in spite of them. they cannot own us, for we are but bones in the flesh every day yet denied us is another day until our bright future "oh, but why are you homeless? [in the near future, maybe, we'll see] That fate is reserved for your [unwanted/incapable/undesired/incongruent, I forget the actual words]" well, voice in my head that suffused me with magic and warmth and whisked me away in a dream to a bubble-reality where my actions are meant to reflect me, surely your appraisal is just? I worked with my partner, I was swallowed neither by lust, nor greed, nor hunger, [greed in this case being fulfillment] and yet I awoke when I went to my sister rather than a doctor. Dreams are hard to unravel, but I think it was more for your benefit than mine, wouldn't you say? ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────┘ --- #17 fediverse/804 --- ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ evil won't feel sorry for me. and yet it's only my only weapon for me. │ ║ │ ║ damn these fallible input methods. the computer lies when you read the screens │ ║ from it's method that it applies to th screen which is a method that you input │ ║ perceive it from. │ ║ │ ║ and my fingers lie when received the information from my brain which I seek to │ ║ transmit to you through the avenue of my brain which is my method of impulse │ ║ to this world specifically you the viewer who is viewing this here in this │ ║ moment the viewer who perceives the words which I'm saying. │ ║ │ ║ the words that are defined by the line [trajectory] of my mind through this │ ║ life that we define through our actions and our mind's most crucial │ ║ manifestations, this life that is defined by our circumstances. all throughout │ ║ life, we are reacting to the moment, the moment which was cast forth from our │ ║ ancestors and the circumstances of the previous moment, which (being cast │ ║ forth) travel from the previous moment here into the moment to define our │ ║ circumstances which define our act │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #18 fediverse/3969 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────── there are very few professions that are naturally more suited to a schizophrenic than a normal person. One of them is beggar, another is prophet, and a third is "massive disappointment" but that comes with the territory. have you considered that maybe you're just a loser yes I have and I decided that all I can do is my best, and if my best loses then what else could I have done? Wait for help? Yeah. I do that too. It feels like an encirclement, and all you can do is hunker down and wait to be relieved. Or fight to the last, it's up to you. I hear they brutalize the skulls of their prisoners after executing them, so, I don't know about you but I'm not surrendering. Not gonna roll those dice. you are in fantasy, again sorry. Should stay here, present, in the moment. Like when I sat out on the park bench for like 30 minutes straight without moving a muscle last night. Or when I sat and contemplated the nature of a bog for two hours last september. Or when I woke from a dream that turned out to be life. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┘ --- #19 fediverse/4914 --- ╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────┐ ║ what if I just sat around and played video games all day │ ║ │ ║ life is so much more beautiful, but, well, life just seems to be mostly │ ║ pyrite, and I'm the fool │ ║ │ ║ nothing wrong with being foolish. │ ║ │ ║ once... │ ║ │ ║ I kinda like being blissful tho. why does it have to end? can I have my │ ║ peaceful life back? │ ║ │ ║ gotta move at the end of the month. I really liked living here. │ ║ │ ║ [ritz you've never been peaceful. your life is a constant battle of wills │ ║ between those who would compel you to do things for them and your desire to │ ║ design and be pretty like a flower. no matter what, you lose, so just handle │ ║ it please. don't be so whiny. or rather I should say "stop whining" and just │ ║ be cool] │ ║ │ ║ ahhhhhhh you go on Mastodon and it feels like we're winning and that's ending │ ║ the world, you go on Reddit and it feels like we're losing and that's ending │ ║ the world, you go on Facebook and everything feels fine like the world isn't │ ║ ending you just stopped being part of it, and if you go on ephemeren it feels │ ║ like being battered in the mind, damnit... │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────┴──────────┘ --- #20 notes/human-computer-inspiration --- ═════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────── the two halves form a whole the human and his mind are societies at large there's no room for our fate, as time does never abate, and unbenownst to our focused decision. I choose to dedicate ourselves to a common vision - the likes of which none have commisioned. can you not cherish your newfoundst home? what's terrible with complition, in a new and selfsame condition (future) that's martyr'd and oh at times so nice? compared to our heirs, the roof of which fares, better than what became true-hence. Truance? idk =============================================================================== = listen i'm not the best at listening. I try to appear like I'm glistening, conformed to our viewers 'st pleasure. =============================================================================== = I struggle with what I told you. Time and again you've shown you won't do - the terrible fate of a man. you've relinquished your virtue, your purpose and your life-through, to what: a visionless past? Your visions have passed, and none are hence forth- coming. You've spoilt and rotten the bunch. All I've ever aspired to be is good. My hopes and my prayers, my goals and my dreams: all for a future of virtue. Dark omens may be within me, but I'm working with what I've got here. So what if I'm loud? I'm fighting my own head! Will no-one acknowlege my sorrow? To prove a point, or reassure some joint, it's nothing that warrants a readthrough. Speaking of which... What if instead of prison we assigned our prisoners a full and complete educational read through of ALL the laws of the nation - if their time sentence was complete before they finished, then they'd be let go of course but if they finished reading and could pass rudimentary tests (emphasis on bare minimum required) then they'd be let out prior to their sentence. And for the worst crimes it'd be a longer sentence, basically forcing the prisoner to completely know all the laws of the nation, such that they'd never commit a crime again. And if they do, well... Treat them as if it was their first time. Of course blatant recidivism may be ~~treated more harshly,~~ actually the opposite is true. People improve when given kindness, not hate or shame. The best thing we can do for prisoners is to give them a home, and family, and the friendships and community support that they need. they are a symptom, after all, of a broken society that struggles to bear it's own weight. It's a burden to all and a solitary vow to ourselves, that all must unite to our future. remember why you can't remember. is there a feeling you miss? ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ |