Confessions of An Existentialist

The only real love triangle I'll ever be in.

"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived." All of you who are trying to figure out, we are all trying.

"I don’t think existence wants you to be serious. I have not seen a serious tree. I have not seen a serious bird. I have not seen a serious sunrise. I have not seen a serious starry night. It seems they are all laughing in their own ways, dancing in their own ways. We may not understand it, but there is a subtle feeling that the whole existence is a celebration."

Bullet is just eating everything, leaves, trees, ground, person. Eating them. Just making person bleed everywhere. We are just like wild animals now, with no place to be go. Sun, why are you shining at this world? I want to catch you in my hands, to squeeze you until you can not shine no more. That way, everything is always dark and nobody have to see all the terrible things that are happening here.

Sometimes I wish things were different. Once this life used to mean something. Once these leaves, these roses, even these concrete roads had meaning. They had life. Now everything is reduced to shit. Everything is soulless, without meaning. Everything is rusting away.

I wish people with dysfunctional tendencies came with horns so that they would date each other and ruin each others' lives, leaving the normal people alone.

I see this in kids. Some go one way, others go another. But it's always at the same age. The age they become conscious of others consciousness. I guess for some the fear is paralysing. But what your story fails to take into account is the fact that for so many the prison door isn't open, they can't leave whenever they want, and it drives some to suicide. In the case of those I have known, it's always the smartest kids. That freaked me out for a bit when I realised that. I don't think the rest are immune from ignorance, or the smart ones know too much. The smart ones see past the hypocrisies and facades of society, and then they see that everyone else does too, but nobody does anything about it. And I guess they just want to rest.

I see this in kids. Some go one way, others go another. But it's always at the same age. The age they become conscious of others consciousness. I guess for some the fear is paralysing. But what your story fails to take into account is the fact that for so many the prison door isn't open, they can't leave whenever they want, and it drives some to suicide. In the case of those I have known, it's always the smartest kids. That freaked me out for a bit when I realised that. I don't think the rest are immune from ignorance, or the smart ones know to much. The smart ones see past the hypocrisies and facades of society, and then they see that everyone else does too, but nobody does anything about it. And I guess they just want to rest.

Stop. You are all the things that are wrong with you! It's not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened in your career, or when you were a kid! It's you! Alright? It's you. Fuck, man. What else is there to say?

“See, Sarah Lynn? We're not doomed. In the grand scheme of things, we're just tiny specks that will one day be forgotten. So it doesn't matter what we did in the past, or how we'll be remembered. The only thing that matters is right now. This moment. This one spectacular moment we are sharing together. Right, Sarah Lynn? Sarah Lynn? Sarah Lynn?”

Everyone is obsessed with physical appearances, but remember: TRUE beauty lies in your boundless, untamed fury at the absurdity of existence.

There's a huge difference between a fantasy & a dream. Dreams try to make sense and find their way into some dead decaying corner of our heads and light them up. Fantasies, on the other hand, sure do light them, but they light them on fire. And the fire just doesn't seem to stop until it has turned the whole graveyard its very own. And the most tragic thing about fantasies is you can't really separate them from dreams. They look mostly alike. And the outside chance is, most dreams eventually turn out to be a tragic fantasy that was never meant to come true. And eventually, the world waves its magic wand, tells you your dreams don't mean shit and you continue to live, with bogged down heads that cease to dream. So before starting out on one's grand pursuit of happiness, the question shouldn't be if the dream is meant to come true but if it is even a dream, after all... or just another stupid, tragic, fantasy.

How common has it become that we see graveyards of shattered dreams and rotten fairy tales. But to come to think of it, were they actually fairy tales to begin with or were mere manifestations of ancient pop culture tropes to lure the masses into a make believe world; hypnotising them into seeing things that never existed and using their deep rooted insecurities and emptiness to fill the voids of their existence. Of course, one shouldn't stop himself from dreaming. Dreams make this world bearable and for once, we have hopes, hopes to make our fantasies and dreams turn to reality. And that's where the problem lies. Fantasies and dreams are like distant cousins, always at war with each other.

Say it with me... "I don't know." Great, was that so hard? Now, go educate yourself. Read, research, converse... but most importantly focus on challenging your beliefs & grow as person. Don't try so hard to retroactively justify your bias via feeble books & abhorrent articles.

Films make you want to believe in the world, when it's rotten. Films make you want to believe in love, when it's dying. Films make you want to believe in words, when they've lost meaning. Films make you want to believe in life, when you just met death. Films make you believe in... MAGIC.

Do you ever just want to shut everyone out of your life and spend the remaining hours just by yourself? Do you ever feel exhausted sometimes talking with people and smiling at strangers? Have you ever get up from bed without consciously knowing that you're already awake? It's like your body is already customized to your morning routines but your mind wanders everywhere. It's like you're feeling alive but your heart feels so empty and for some reason, you start to question yourself, "Am I living or just alive?"

Am I in love? Absolutely. I’m in love with ancient philosophers, foreign painters, classic authors, and musicians who have died long ago. I’m a passionate lover. I fawn over these people. I have given them my heart and my soul.

My answer to the question: "What are you going to do with your life?"

An afterworld where everything's at peace, where nothing gets fucked up, and everything is as it is supposed to be. An afterworld of long understood silences without wanderers and their rambling rants. An afterworld of godless skies and empty books, where even your insignificant dreams come true and not fall off a fucking cliff. An afterworld where you create your own myths, your own stories, your own legends. An afterworld where everything's home, and nothing's rushing. Everything's still, breathing, at peace.

"Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. We’re all going to die. Come Watch TV." - Rick and Morty