Confessions of a person who reads a lot and writes too

It’s been a while since I have written anything. Self-doubts about being a writer is just like an identity crisis. I wonder whether that makes any sense right now. But I try to not think about what goes through my mind now and then. It’s crazy if you ask me how life turned out to be. One time you’re thinking something and at another time it’s like you acted and it turned out well and sometimes it doesn’t.

I guess there has been a lot on my mind lately. I guess I'm overthinking. I have read countless times that overthinking leads to nothing but overthinking. I'm feeling down lately, because I do everything wrong but somehow it always feels right. This way I'm just going to be forgotten like everybody else. Even though it is inevitable. There must be something individual about everyone that makes them think that they are somebody. In fact we are nobody. What are we? I have asked this countless time to myself repeatedly, constantly and painfully .there was never an answer. Every time I'm close to finding who I really am. I just change. I'm constantly changing and it can’t be helped. If I'm changing all the time. I'm sure that I will never find out who I really am. Is this scary or what? I can’t remember what happened last week exactly about this time. All I can remember are these repugnant memories of achievements, pain, happiness, embarrassment, mistakes, and so on whatever people believe in their life is to be important at times from time to time. I take actions based on these moods. At times. I think I'm being controlled by something inside me . Like a cordycep. I'm writing on impulse and it is something that I hate the most because it never lasts it never does last and I certainly do not want it to last because I never have been a fan of lasting. It’s a dream upon a dream that has been built on a lie told to the people who are sceptical about whether in fact the reality as we perceive it exists or not.

Existentialism and ethical dilemmas associated with psychedelia

Introduction

The question that haunts people with high existential quotient is
unmistakably ‘who am I’. That told. What we should be really asking
ourselves is more of ‘why am I’. Why me or why us?
We all have these definite patterns of behaviour or set of
characteristics that makes us ‘US’ (characteristic does sound
derivative, but can’t help it).
We are what we are because we have been what we have been
– Sigmund Freud
The immediate consciousness, the self, an identity that we attribute
to ourselves. What is it that one quality that makes us what we are.
I like to believe that life is nothing but a journey that we have
experienced through our senses (journey is a metaphor that has been
used a lot with life, just passing through cognitive linguistics).
Only the senses can cure the soul, and only the soul can cure the
senses – Oscar Wilde
What if there is a reality beyond our senses. (Well we all know that
we can only perceive the visible spectrum through our eye. Which
technically speaking is a small portion of the spectrum of waves
considering ultra violet, infra-red etc.; which analogously speaking
is same for all the other sense as well) what if I told you that our
senses are bound. Restricted so as to speak so that we can
physically survive. What if our brain has blocked all of these other
wide spectrum of sensations just in order to concentrate on the
current purpose at hand which is primordial and biological one
(let’s not digress into that. The brain is trying to cancel out all
the other noises so as to concentrate on the continuation of the
species. What if there was a way to break this levee and go into the
unknown, a world of senses that we haven’t experienced yet.
Synaesthesia (which is said to have been lost over evolution,
although seen in people within (and outside(very few)) autistic
spectrum), ego dissolution (oceanic boundlessness, ego death). What
if we could find god in a pill? Does it do any good, or does it
exacerbate the misery of existence. An existence without a belief.
Trying to grab on to something so as to save yourself all the while
you’re drowning in the sea of ignorance.

Back to belong

Yeah sure everyone's back now.
Oh I'm glad that it's almost over
It's almost like it never happened
It's strange, THE FLOOD.
how fast things can change
It's going to be back to normal
For the better or the worse
Well for once something happened.
They know what's real
is what they have
And you only have yourself
That's something no one can take away.
Till that one fine day 6ft under.

Now I think I'm more disconnected than ever.

Everyone's finding their way back.
But I feel like we are building sand castles on a beach.

 

Blue roses

A butterfly's wing severed in a gust of fleeting moments that slip through time to whether like the petals of pleurosis. 

Quote evolution

I will write as long as I live and when I die I will live forever.

I will live as long as I have something to write and I will write as long as I live. For when I die, I will live forever.

I will live, as long as I have something to write and I will write, as long as I live And when I die, I will continue to live as long as I'm read.