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i’m plagued by the notion that i’m running out of time. running out of time for what? i still don’t know. i know what it’s not. it’s not material success i do not see an expiry date like one would print on a pack of blueberries on me for that. it’s not to find love…
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i do not believe that ‘finding the third space’ can be a complete technique and practice within itself. i find its structure inherently hierarchical and i cannot agree that a conflict can be fully resolved with a hierarchy intact. take for example two parties arguing, subject a and subject b. subject a believes that subject…
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i am a caterpillar who is yet to undergo metamorphosis while simultaneously undergoing rebirth and an awakening every 3-5 business days. i have progressed, transcended my old self even, but i am not yet in my end form. it catches me on the train then walking down the stairs at london bridge. it hits me…
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green apples and green peppers see me approaching, hovering over them deliberating on their worthiness only to watch their red counterparts be selected. i imagine their little hearts breaking as it happens time and time again, they don’t understand why they aren’t picked. i won’t accept that the produce doesn’t have a consciousness, everything does.…
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whenever i enter that state i like to stare at myself in the mirror. i don’t do it in self adoration. i’m watching myself morph into the truth. my face stops being human and becomes something more familiar. my eyes are the main thing that change, always the eyes. they turn into something different and…
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i dream about a forest where the ground doesn’t quite hold and pinecones whisper. it’s not broken here, but the reading of it slips. the moon hangs wrong and the stars keep splitting. daytime never quite comes here. sometimes i don’t notice, sometimes i do, then i forget what i felt like i always do.…
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over the years i’ve realised i have strong opinions. some matter, some don’t. one of my most revisited ones is about shapes. i keep returning to triangles, i really hate triangles. they are too pointy they stab me. i remember feeling it once, someone trying to tell me the truth and i asked them to…
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i would like to reincarnate without being aware of it, i envy those in a state of oblivion, i struggle to comprehend hell, and heaven terrifies me. the idea of heaven brought me comfort up until i was around 7. then the concept of infinite life, even the most pleasurable of lives alongside the Holy…
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i’m not scared of the plane hitting turbulence and falling out of the sky, i’m certain that that kind of death wouldn’t happen to me. i’m scared of a freak incident where cabin pressure dips without any souls or instruments noticing. everyone just sitting there breathing while something invisible has already started. death scares me…