I just want to say, this is the most achingly beautiful piece of art I've seen on this site. I've thought so for a while, but I never said anything because I don't have any experience with this situation, and goodness knows it's a delicate subject.
A very convoluted German philosopher would have us believe that the only way to understand something is to understand it's exact opposite, and to effectively create it by negating it with its opposite. The figments of our social blobs we call friends have a hard time understanding the finite, and I like to think it's because we all have some childish need to shrug off dark ideas with the shimmering belief that it simply couldn't be. I fully understand the fathomable, the finite, and the real, because I understand their opposites too well for my own good: the infinite, the unreal, the unfathomable -- ultimately, madness. It really helps to be able to stretch your mind as far as one statement can go.
I bring this up because it's so fucking complex, just like people, and just like the latter statement. Tell someone flatly something horrifying that had happened to you; the human mind stumbles and twirls through its own short-lived madness looking for a response. Perhaps you're not being serious; perhaps this is an elaborate method to embarrass you. Maybe if they're your close friend, they'll have trouble believing that the living being before them has suffered, or maybe they already figured. If they don't know you very well, is it really their problem; are we not all given to an unfair propensity to be cruelly cynical; incredulous, distrusting? Goddamnit, all this fucking THINKING again, when we simply aren't built as creatures to deal so openly, so EASILY with these ideas.
When I stub my toe, I punch the damn table that wronged me and move on -- maybe even giggle about it later with friends. But when a plot like "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" -- originally dubbed "Men Who Hate Women," by its author, by the way -- plays itself out in real life, acknowledging it as a tangible fact -- an unavoidable occurence -- is one big mouthful of indigestion. There's no fucking WAY someone's going to fully appreciate that entire event and its consequences, its implications, without a flinch or a shiver or a twitch of the eye: shock. Disbelief is a gag reflex, it will vomit up whatever can't be digested. Yes, it's lazy, but there is an unimaginably intricate system of credulous naivete built up in the average monkey these days; one either takes comfort in utter cynicism, or in ignorance of corrosive side of the human experience. Even if they're not one of these cliches, the average person will STILL puke up what you tell them because it's just too damn scary to think anything that dark could play itself out under their watch... with REAL people, and to them. The digestion of the above mood takes time and reorganizing; isn't my toe so much easier to deal with? And so they treat it as such.
But they're not really worth mentioning, so let's move on. I wouldn't full well know what to do if you outright told me about this, and most people won't. Discomfort, awkwardness, fear, nervousness -- an apt and average response: " Well shit, WHAT DO I DO?!!" Some lighten the mood, some offer hugs, and I prefer hugs. So many people out there want to make it better, cure it. So a foolhardy proclamation of "revenge," or some therapist's number, or even the ragged, tattered cliche that "it's okay now." Even worse: "I'm sorry;" oh great, pity -- and self-referred, too, dumbass! Although these things are better than ignoring you or calling you a slut dismissively, can we really make this all better? I've known 4 rape and sexual abuse victims in my life, and I've never found a way to instantly comfort them. And cliches just don't help. The best I could do was keep my head and not flip out; like any conversational minefield, trauma takes the goddamn cake. In some cases my hugs work, other times a good sit-down and chat does, other times just sitting back and letting them talk helps. If someone's spilling the jet black oil of festering personal trauma out onto the plate of conversation, is it NOT sane to think perhaps you could be a help by letting them feel comfortable? If you think it isn't easy, you're right, but it ain't much easier to do the spilling. Either way, you determine the strength of people in crucial moments like these, so if they're not cut out to deal with a topic like this, well, g'night and g'luck. Cue curt smile and wave.
In case you haven't noticed, these responses are numerous, the complexity of the situation unfathomable, and the sum total of potential reasoning for each just as goddamn confusing. It's a lot of thinking, a lot of useless thinking, because it, like always, boils right on down to the simple facts: can they help and do they help, can they stomach this and will they, do you feel believed and do you feel trusted?
I'm not going to tell you all men are evil and I'm not going to tell you I'm amazed such things can happen in the world. Why? Well, because those are oversimplifications, and because statistics tell us, here in the U.S. that a good 80% of women will be intensely sexually harassed and/or raped in their lifetimes, and that only 10-20 percent will speak out as of 2010. Statistics twist and filter things, but they need something to already be bloated just enough to do so. Point being, rape is still an atrocity, as for sexual harassment, stalking, and all its subsequent humiliations, but it can make you feel so goddamn alone. You're not, and not only are you not alone, but there are probably an uncanny number of people who can relate. If anyone makes you feel alone, do let them know, viciously, and remember the good 6 billion other people scouring the earth that still have the chance to bridge that gap.
I'll be honest, I love the sweet shit out of you. If you lived here, I would hug you every day because of this love. No, this is a political statement, it just means that on the people scale you'd be one of the closest I've ever had. I am literally insane, and you understand me -- and that. That alone is a miracle, but the level in which we understand one another is an even more touching factoid. I enjoy your intellectual company, and I enjoy your art. In all the above, I'm sure I'm not alone, so take comfort: you're loved, enjoyed, and appreciated. Why didn't you get this on Valentine's Da -- BECAUSE I'M MORE FUCKING ORIGINAL THAN THAT AS STATED BEFORE, SEE? xD
I say this because it's true, and because I'm glad to see you're letting this out somehow. I know this cancerous memory isn't something that just fades from conscious reverberation, so I expect you to vent. I'm not going to feed you bullshit just so I can slip out of dark territory, that's just cowardly or lazy, and neither one fits me well in this context (I'm lazy in other, more productive, ways). So you go ahead and show openly whatever you need, whatever you want, or whatever you're feeling, because I'm not going to stray away from it. I'm going to give you another essay, and another big chowder to read through and digest because I know you'll read it, hopefully take some comfort and thought from it, and respond. You're a profound individual, and a beautiful mind with just as lovely a body. I know life's a lengthy, chaotic walk, but let me know if you need a quick piggyback ride: it's a silly-cute reprieve from the attrition. :]
One more goddamn thing before I close up here:
*This is my personal bubble: everything that comes through is recorded and scrutinized*
Well, the bubble has detected bullshit on the greater scale. I'm more than fucking sick to my stomach of people, namely men, who play the self-deprecating card that "all men are lusting pigs" or "hogs" or "gluttons" or "evil" in the attempt to either appear the opposite, or relate to women. Talk about stooping, not only is that a cheap way to generalize a good half of one's species, but hundreds of thousands do it, so it's no longer very original. It's almost as if rather than threading out a complex emotional topic, these lazy pricks just lump an entire sex into one big ball and then distract the conversation with its flaming corpse: "Oh look at this big evil flaming ball, aren't men just evil. I'm a good person! Moving on... ;D " Pathetic, and it's just the same unproductive contribution as telling a drummer he's "not doing it right." How about some fucking specificity, tangible human comfort, or at least something to chew thoroughly that I HAVEN'T HEARD HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF TIMES THIS MONTH, EH? Fucking people...
This was originally a tangent I wrote mid-essay, but figured it would fit better as an afterthought stapled to the end of this one. Grade leniently, eh teach? xD
Okay, I sleep now, and in case you didn't get it the first time:
Wow that was very interesting to read if you didn't mind me doing so~ especially what you said about understanding somethings opposite to compare what you want to understand about the other opposite itself. This is a little personal, but I have been abused before when I was younger, though not sexually...I dont want to get into to much detail about it on the internet haha, but that as well as other things in my life when I was younger and growing up affected me deeply, even to today. Though I've grown so much farther, I still am dealing with a more mild (but at times still severe) depression, even with all the support I have it takes time to heal. I've only ever opened up with one person in my life about what happened to me though, about what happened and how it affected me..my boyfriend and love. I imagine its very difficult to listen to something so tragic and shocking, and I open up to him whenever I feel I need to about it. However he and I both know, he can never truly understand... nor would I want him to feel or understand such pain.
I've tried talking to other people about it, but some people I know just can't take or understand what I've been through...I figure they may be better off not knowing...I struggle thinking maybe I should say, but if its in the past why does it matter in the present? And why would I need to tell everyone about it if I have someone to talk to.. Anyways I guess I'm very lucky to have someone so close that I can open myself up to, who understands the best he can without judgement and always with love.
Well I didnt mean for this to get so personal haha, but I guess I just wanted to let you know how I could relate. P:
Some people just cant understand the depth of one's pain, mostly because they haven't experienced it - but also because they are afraid to think it is possible. People think "That's sad.." "I'm sorry.." "well its over now...simply move on", but anything that scars someone so deeply, it changes them. It is not a conscious thing that is lost or simply forgotten in the chaotic abyss of one's more conscious mind. No,something like this is made impossible to forget, it is drilled right into one's subconscious mind, the fear, anxiety, and other emotions with it. Memories that do this to someone took time to affect them, and will take time to grow above them. I believe its impossible to forget something like that, but with time you can change your perception of what happens, its a painful proccess but in the end one has to accept what happens, and not trap it inside.
Anyways I hope you don't mind my input on the subject, I appreciate yours greatly, made me feel good knowing there's someone out there who can understand and relate, for real you seem to have great understanding of this kind of topic, have you ever studied philosophy or anything like that? Or is this all personal experience?
I can't imagine how long that took you to write haha, I'm quite ready to crash into my bed now xD I hope you can give some of your own input back to me, but I wanted to let you know as well I'm not expecting you to, I just read your wall of a comment and felt an urge to express my connection with what you wrote~ Though I'd love to hear what you think! (:
Also I just wanted to share my thoughts with other people who could relate, seeing how kapanihan expresses her pain in her art so freely made me feel confident enough to say all this, I hope what I said could be useful to someone out there
I didn't study philosophy in great detail, I just looked a lot of things up -- things in music. When I was smaller and less knowledgeable than I am now, I saw a lot of death. Not just "purr uld grummawh" white and emaciated and at last at peace with cancer, I mean deterioration. I saw people peel apart and melt or simply burn. Some of them laying around somewhere in little piles or chunks -- a few are still reminiscent of rotting, peeled bananas. In short, I grew doubtful of people general: they're just so goddamn malleable -- even the skin we coat ourselves in is so rubbery, so easily torn.
That image in mind, I saw people much in the same way: easily bent, stressed, stretched and broken. And they were. That's where my real studies began, watching people. Watching them bend and twist and break. I was an emotional sadist, since I wasn't much for physical violence, I was weak, they were weak, and I didn't like pain nor inflicting it. I didn't like people, so I sought to find their soft, warm weak spots and press into them, find what was wrong with them and why it was so. In these escapades I hurt a lot of nice people, but at least they were just "nice." But they hurt me too, even if they'll never know it. Thus, I've hurt and been hurt -- and very thoroughly; that's how I've learned so much. And reading, lots of that.
But I'm not much for blindness; I knew exactly who I was becoming and what I was doing, but I didn't know life any other way. Safe to say I didn't like myself very much, so I suppose I was depressed for a very long time. And angry, and tired. Never suicidal, never that -- that was just no fun. He who lives in pain makes a fetish out of it -- lives off it. But I always knew there was something more, that this couldn't last forever for me, there wasn't enough done to me to make it really last. So I couldn't justify death, only depression which I can barely justify since it was better described as apathy.
After 8 years I was right, it did go away because I grew tired of it. People in my life showed me booze and how to have a good time; I wasn't a fan of losing myself so I never did, but boy did I gain confidence. I met a lot of fucked up women with fucked up memories and fucked up problems and fucked up friends. These people showed what it was to fuck up -- also how to swear a lot. I tried to relate to and comfort these women; turns out that doesn't work sometimes. Sometimes that skin I mentioned isn't there, it's gone and so are they. All that remains was a trail of ashes and the smell of shit and failure. People with personalities like that don't want help, they want you to suffer and to feel okay with making it happen. They want as many distractions as possible to draw their eyes and sense of touch away from the dirt, shit, and ash they've become. With these people, I learned to trust myself: I am sane -- angry, but sane. Thus, I could not fix them, and I would not want to. The truly broken can do no better than fix themselves. Help is one thing, servitude another.
Ain't it a giggle that "Dirt" by Alice in Chains should come on right now? :3 Hehe. But no, as you can tell by now, I learned most of my lessons vicariously, through observation of the flames of life and "love," not participation. In order to keep talking to you, I figure it's smart to make it clear that I am not the guy in the crossfire taking potshots and throwing grenades at death -- I'm just some asshole taking cover and keeping my head down. I haven't done much nor had much done to me, but I've seen a lot in the moments I peek my head around the corner.
I'm glad you finally found someone to talk these things out with. I happened to do much the same as of recently. Maybe my luck hasn't run out and this one is more long-term than any of the last. But fuck me, let's be honest, human companionship, love, camaraderie -- most of the few ways we learn to live with ourselves. In these rare existential inoculations we find penitence or sanctuary.
That's what my essay was really missing, the simple fact that people don't deal with things well alone, especially if they feel alone -- that no one else around has even seen what they have in any way, nor thought about it. Moreover, there is no way to deal with memories like those in one sitting. You hear something like that, and BAM -- conversation has been effectively busted, so you panic or let it slide on downstream with the rest of what could've been because now you've got shit to do and deal with. You to wait and digest. You can go on talking and cross that river but all that water sure will distract you. About the only thing that will dam the river again will hopefully be to find out more, but either way, it takes time to adjust to something as intense as that you've never experienced before. When conversation turns to your personal trauma, things get serious, and some people can't handle that. I got to that part, but not to the simple truth beyond that: like our own lives, conversations need to drown out the bad with good. Something horrifying must be balanced with humor or glee somehow. It's not that we want to forget, it's simply bar chemistry: do you want your drink too sweet or too strong? That's right, life is like alcohol. The nihilistic darkness balances against cute, curt humor and what few things make us truly happy. Thus, our social interactions mirror our large-scale behavior, like usual. No rape victim will ever forget what's happened, only seek a brighter experienced through which to drown out the horrors left etched in his or her skin, brain, or heart.
But it all seems so quaint to me now, rape, execution, beatings, flayings, burnings, farts, poop, genocide, unseaming, horror, choking fetishes, incestual and rapacious anal fisting. Why is it fucking normal in a country to become accustomed to dark, disgusting, repugnant, and abhorrently base topics? Allow me to be temporarily tangential at 3 AM but really, another reason people are so awkward about the darker shit in life is that it's presented as a joke before them all the time. "Here, kids, this is Lemmy the semi-retarded, physically disabled, rapist, spontaneously-combusting but constantly reconstituting immortal Duck Angel! He's come to save the day... and touch you! A lot!" YouTube, cable, Netflix, Hulu -- name it, it's got this shit somewhere on it. Usually, it's on YouTube, spewing assloads of bad words, "Oh No You Didn't" phrases, fart and fap jokes, and obnoxious, puerile, meme-caked, virus-like regurgitated garbage. Psychicpebbles makes his videos so fucking disturbing because he IS so fucking disturbing and he likes taking the time to make his drawings as such. Does that mean every goddamn thing I see in every form of media has to be as well? Does that mean I'm a victim in a vulgar time needing gentle pandering to? Fuck. No. I need a calm balance of cruel, morbid humor from the world's George Carlins some days, and serious, thoughtful conversation other days. And some days I just need to take a big shit and talk about it at dinner with my friends while we fish or speed past "dumb blonde bitch" stereotypes on the highway. I bet that doesn't make much sense, but neither does most of the shit said nowadays. Perhaps it's our lack of balance and subtlety that's causing us all to be so goddamn empty-headed and socially deficient. Our precarious lifestyles leave us without natural mannerisms -- a fluid nature capable of flowing with some, and grinding against others. Our precarious culture leaves us unable to deal with mediums, we're either too fucking quiet, jittery and uncomfortable or too destructively blunt, morbid, and obnoxious.
Believe me, there's so much more behind our troubles communicating these days. For more information, consult "Schism" by Tool, "Intension" by Tool, "War" by Meshuggah, "No Excuses" by Alice in Chains, "Intolerance" by Tool, "Let's Have A War" by A Perfect Circle, "Us and Them" by Pink Floyd, and, just to lighten the mood, "CAFO" or "Weightless" by Animals as Leaders.
Apologies for such a late response, lately ive been pretty busy as its my first week at university~ :3 but anyways thanks for your reply again! its relieving to hear from someone who can not only understand, but can actually know where i'm coming from! Many people can "understand", can visualize what certain situations like abuse, neglect, depression, or any other kind of crap like that can be like...But too many people only see the brighter side of things, even if its a lie... Simply because they do not want to accept it as a truth. And because of that cant understand, don't want to.
Kind of a different topic, but I find it sad that people idolize those who have good looks though can be stupid/ a jerk/ arrogant, over smart/ clever people who may be socially awkward. Not to say that with looks you loose intelligence, or the opposite, but rather that people are more fond of distracting themselves by surrounding themselves with things that are funny, amusing, and often not so productive. People will postpone, delay, get distracted, its the 'easier thing to do', but it doesn't get us anywhere. Some people though are far too gone to help others though, so weak from all the times they've given up on someone all they can do to go on and pretend everything okay. I apologize if i'm blabbering, haha. I've had an tiring first day (my first two classes at york university were today! They went quite well) :3. hope im not just saying jibberish *sigh* I better sleep soon i have another class tomorrow!
I could write a book about how i feel about all these little things, but however i don’t want to get to personal on dA haha, maybe i could message you sometime? I’m about to go to sleep tbh~ And yes those are some amazing songs my friend, I've heard Tool before, love it Thanks for sharing! So hard to find good music nowadays in all the fog of crappy justin beiber and shit like that haha.
Anyways i’ll be talking to ya later sometime i suppose, Take care for now~ Celeste - ~ -
You're welcome, but we're products of what's around us and ourselves. I am given to procrastination, shallow baseness, and doubt, but can you blame me? IT's nice to feel the smooth breeze of a caught-up punctuality in life, but I had nothing worth living for, except simply living -- hoping something stimulating enough to consider worth living for came along. And it did, but most days, I don't want to be productive, because shaky foundations with a bunch of useless shit thrown on top of them are still shaky foundations. And now the shaky foundation is even shakier covered with a bunch of over-produced trash. We bicker about politics when we should accepting it as our simplistic reflection exposed and manipulated, we whine about each other -- reluctant to whine about ourselves, we fuck and choke and scratch and snort and eat and beat the shit out of each other when we're in love, we take words and we use of until they're faded and translucent as a tissue soaked through and tossed away, we parade our style of living around because we really just don't see value in anything except money, power, safety, and control -- getting what we want. We are children given no boundaries, told everything is okay, we have to accept everyone even if everyone laughs and snickers, giggles and chuckles, marks and stares at the aliens around us. We don't take it serious and yet we become it: a big, cynical stereotype -- a big American asshole with a proclivity to sneer at everyone not in his clothes and do nothing but for himself. It's common to be a cynical misanthrope these days. I did it when I was 16 and still got tired of it, but now it seems to be a trend in American life: to drink and wash away your self-created, self-isolating, self-destructive and lonesome misery. Can you blame me for distracting myself, for not assigning value to this disgusting film coating our world? Some days I just want to destroy it all, them all, everything, because the universe has a great basis -- it has a fantastic idea. It destroys; nothing seems more purified than something completely new -- renewed -- emptied. There's so much potential in something untouched, isn't there? In chaos or in a new world, life is exciting and refreshed, even if it's the same scenario replayed over and over in human history. It would be one great big break from the monotonous grinding of everyday life and people like teeth on granite. Wouldn't it be wonderful to feel flood waters wash over you -- feel it destroy all those things that vex and torment you? I can't possibly describe -- in full -- every pathetic and wasteful incentive we have before us, encouraging us to give in to the thankless grind of American consumerism, but it is our foundation: money is money, want is want, the two are one, and the two are life -- they are all you will ever be, so make money and buy shit. I don't want to live for that, I never did; I never, ever, did.
So I wouldn't blame you, or myself, or anyone for searching for a distraction now and then. Fucking a stranger, speeding on a highway, snorting coke, waking up barely remembering your identity, blowing up a warehouse -- all effective ways to keep your mind off the systems we ourselves create only to suspend ourselves in a sleepless, comatose vacuum we call controlled self-government. Like a good cryo-freeze chamber, our systems paralyze us as they make us feel safe. We take comfort in what we make, even as it erodes us -- or just outright kills us. I suppose it's our nature to do this -- over and over again. So yes, people like that annoy me, but I can't help but forgive them, else I'd never be able to forgive myself, or live in this place.
You are more than welcome to message me, and please do, shoot me a note on here and I'll give you any of the messenger programs I still have.
This was so refreshing to read. And let me tell you, yes I am comforted. You among very few others I am virtually spiced with, actually understand this combusting clog of clicheŽ bs that's slobbering around. I was, once again, very happy to receive this essay from you and read it with pure glee. I waited a bit to respond because I was a bit stumped and clueless of what to reply, because you just went straightforward to what's not said. And I greatly, greatly appreciate it.
Though in all insanity, I still haven't gotten a full grasp of what level it actually is. (My english fails from time to time so bear with me.) I've encountered these replies and comments so many times, that I don't judge, nor do I have the will to. I'll just take a few steps back or forward or whichever direction, to their level and respond to what's appropriate. Avoiding conflict, since that is my nature. I am not ecessarily irritated by this that way and I know someone out there will understand to degree that they will speak out honestly. Like you.
What our relationship would be if we were linked in flesh and blood, I do not know. Words are simply words, to a degree, I almost think that most of what I've written I wouldn't even be able to speak out. Since speech is what I fail in most. Though I do agree on how our minds come together and give eachother a tight hug.
So once again, congratulations! You received another shiny star on your essay. A job well done and I am anxious to see more of your prancing words soon. A big thank you. [insert hug]
Some day I owe you a nice soda-sipping, Bill Hicks-styled sit-down and chat.
The level doesn't matter, really. Confident, astute Americans cringe at rape, sodomy, child abuse, sexual harassment, etc... It's up to comedians, writers, and psychopaths like myself to calm them down and make them giggle so they can sit back down and think the topic through, get comfy. They will never understand you or your predicament, though, and most will never come close, or closer. Most will simply learn to better brush it off. Still, I'm here for a reason, because my parents fucked and forgot to leapfrog when they were pulling out of The Shit. (Vietnam AND accidental pregnancy jokes. <3) I can't I even know if that's a joke, judging by where I am now, but hey, I laugh about it, don't I? That's something to smile about. I guess that's the best we can do for most people, which is a bitch when you have a past like your own. Oh well, with age, I'm sure they'll have plenty of time to think about it... or maybe when they're dead. xD
I suppose living around passive aggression my whole life has made me a staunch advocate for fearless honesty, but that's STILL a lie. Even people I know who proclaim to be blunt, aren't blunt; they're destructive. Being blunt isn't a lifestyle, it's a tool that, when used, cuts through the hassle of elaborately dancing around someone who's too goddamn afraid to look a problem or and idea in the eye. It's not that they have their head up their ass, it's that they're staring directly at the ground before them, not up, not ahead, not around, just fucking DOWN -- at the same wad of shit they peeled out when they were too scared to act or to accept something. These ostrich-ass motherfuckers spew out nothing but cliches and hate. [Weird, this sounded kind of like... George Carlin... to me] Hate doesn't even have to be what they're feeling, they just want the big scary person with the big scary idea to go away. And they wonder why the topic is so awkward. -_-
Once again, our vindictive and blindly-sympathetic world doesn't give us much thought to chew on, we're just supposed to buck-up when we fall, chew up all the tasteless, tacky, misplaced apologies when we're wronged, and fight our way to death. It's fucking stupid, but I admire your ability never to lash out at hollow fucks like that. Though it makes you "look" ungrateful, it's really just self-assertion. Don't come groveling to a stranger's -- or especially a friend's -- doorstep looking for some a quick, easy, and lazy way to seem emotionally stable: bust out a couple of tattered old lines from some 1920's romance; these lines we STILL USE TODAY: "I'm sorry this happened to you," for example, or the tired 90's mantra "do you need to talk about it?" Like a children's counselor that dropped out of college, the latter line is just a failure waiting to reveal itself; it's just tiring to hear these days.
Maybe the way our work environment bleeds us dry excuses our emotional lethargy, but is being bitter about our tiring, unoriginal life really the solution? For some, perhaps, but at least it's not the end. The average bagfucker (consumer, citizen, whatever) in America understands at least SOME level of social politics, even if they have to explain it in repetitive, slack-jawed, jumpy, awkward statements with lots of dead adjectives and meaningless "ums" and "uhs." There could be hope for the future! Just keep on venting and donating your thoughts and I'll keep on donating mine. Since this site is becoming bigger, hopefully our contributions will enlighten a couple people! Idealistic... weird.
In a world where everybody can jerk off while "making art," it's easy to get lost, but it's simple: there are a lot of average people around these days. It's not as if they're all worth tearing apart, some of what they make is pretty, but it's end-all pretty average material. Thus, don't be surprised by the lot of unimportant responses you receive, it's just another average Joe. Stupid shows like "American Idol" and "America's Got Talent" give our society the false hope it needs to pump out thousands of mouth-happy loons who think their utterly uninteresting piece of photography, or writing, or thinking is some miracle of the mind's third-eye. SUPPORTING this flow of idiots are the trolls, the multitude of bitter, lazy, and "clever" bumblejugs that enjoy simply annoying someone, while diluting and squelching out intelligent, constructive criticizers that have a POINT TO MAKE.
Ultimately, resisting this movement seems hopeless. People set in their way of slap-dashery will continue to bore and annoy those who simply need more to feel satisfied. Perhaps we're like mental gluttons, desensitized to simple ideas and answerless questions, so we need more, but I can never see bad in that. My aim for relativity and knowledge lead me to be calmer, more thoughtful, and more likable, not to OD on condescension and philosophy. So deal with it however you must, so we can keep on writing to each other and maybe sparking the interest of people here and there. Thanks to trolls and to advertised contextual apathy, you'll always look like the asshole if you're not bowing to every "I'm sorry" you come across... vain, prideful, arrogant fucks.
Good to know you enjoyed reading and that I broke through [big hug]. I hope you enjoy this one, too, since it took me about as long to write.
I felt like this too many times, when I saw it my heart felt so tiny... I've been on that road before, they didn't call me liar but they told me to shut up and just forget what happened, but it is something you can't just forget... it is something you have to overcome and arise strongrer, everyone can... although is painful.
For me it is complete, what matters is that you don't keep those feelings inside.
It's ok, back to square one... it happens, it can be so frustrating, even if you are back you are not the same. Just keep growing until you can break free, sometimes that is the only thing you can do. there's people who can't express their feelings I'm glad you can Maybe it isn't much but if you need to talk sometime I can hear you.
This is really intense! But thats what made the feel unique. The way you drew it was so expressive that it almost made it hard for me to look at it (since I shy away from anything that includes pain *facepalm*)
I don't know how to describe it, but this picture, is like the songs that I love. It makes my heart....idk how to describe it....well it hurts my heart I guess, but thats because of the underlying meaning or the plain truthfulness of it :< Its probably one of the first pictures to hit me so hard like that!
I hope nothing bad is happening to you Q____Q This feels....well truly real and really intense! It almost scares me.