Death before d^W
The purpose was lost
I was weird from the start, from the onset.
This weirdness could be sensed here.
Yes, I was weird, and I harbored heretic thoughts bordering on insanity but I had the PURPOSE
And then I was lost.
And they, they stood around and they cared only about my abstract well-being.
They even wanted me to be GOOD, not understanding that I'm now NOTHING.
They even THOUGHT that I was GOOD, not understanding that I was indeed no more.
My loved ones rarely cared about ME.
In no small part because I was very secretive about myself but why was I?
Because their care was flame and sword. They tried to destroy ME and build a new one every time they SENSED.
All I stood for and all I believed in, it's destroyed or being destroyed, or is in danger to be destroyed, in no small part by myself
In 2010, I betrayed myself and some other people, I grew soft and I was manipulated.
In 2010, I did the best choice of my life and I was able to be THE best version of myself because of it.
Which one is true?
Probably I will die without knowing it.
Now -- I stare at everything I could have been from the depths of who I had become and I wonder -- does it even exist, what I'm staring at?
Is it a point in the field of probabilities? Was it ever a point there, even?
Did I make the right choices?
The answering silence is more profound that it ever had been.
Voices of Peace - Криокамеры
It really registered.
Things didn't change all that much over those 16 years for me, personally.
The war and everything war shattered my self-perception even more than it was shattered by my surprise revelations just before it started.
One thing really is fun, tho
I am a graphomaniac because I want to be like that, I don't want people to read and discuss whatever I write, I just want to write.
I'm an introvert because I want to be an introvert.
I want to be myself, and everything social and everything work that's getting in the way is just an annoyance.
Whatever led me to this way, whatever made me into what I am -- I am what I am.
I am what I am.
And now I'm having coffee.
Because I want to.
I wanna lift you up, I’m gonna set you down
I’m gonna take your hand and spin you round and round
I’m gonna open my arms and open my ears
I’m gonna listen to your stories, wipe away your tears
me shen miyvarxar - I love u, short "miyvarxar"
nakhvamdis - bye
Fuck it, you can poison my water
But you’re gonna need a damn good lawyer
Cause I’m worth my weight in gold
I failed to uphold to the standards I wanted to uphold to, and the world had failed me back.
I felt that nothing would be as it was, nothing would be better than it was, in those days umphteen years ago.
I even didn't consciously understand where it comes from, how it maps on the reality around me.
Foolish I was, yes.
Foolish I was.
I wanted things that were only got through great strife (or so I thought) but was I ready for a strife itself?
I thought I was.
No, I wasn't.
And here I am, sitting here watching some scenes I last had seen decades ago and wandering what it did to me.
I failed, and for that failure I will suffer for the rest of my life.
During my prolonged wane I somehow started to learn Python to solve a data gathering task in a probable new business of mine. What a practical and easy to learn language! I wish I’d learned it earlier, so that I didn’t have to bang my head against the wall making an data combining utility in C previously.
Using C for data processing resembles a masochistic invention of a bicycle at nearly every step.
The potato eaters
I've been re-reading Castaneda's "Journey to Ixtlan" and some places were ringing with recognition, mostly about how pathetic I am and how I myself am the reason of this and the force behind this.
Thinking about it, I started to distinguish a background feeling of discontent with almost everything surrounding me: the omnipresent smokers, the traffic smog, the unstable financial situation, the bitchy and discontented-looking girls around. It's even funny how I am becoming just like those girls in my attempts to be not like them. The discontent feels noxious, but there's still something magnetic in it, there's a feeling like I am bound to perceive discontent, that it's something pertinent.
With tenacity worthy of a better application I suck reasons to feel myself mistreated by life out of a thumb.
My main problem with not exerting more efforts seems to be the voluntary refusal to view life (negative emotions and negative physical sensations included) as a source of interesting experience rather than a heavy burden and a scourge. This has something to do with a background wish to pity and victimize myself.
Somehow (with T.'s aid) I learned that all my suffering is only made possible with a grandiose self-deception: making myself believe that I don't want the suffering to happen, while in reality I do.
Without this self-deception the suffering severely loses its power over me, and that's liberating.
I often pity myself for being ‘unable’ to lift the gravestone of nox. It seems that some external force keeping it in place is stronger than me.
But there’s no such thing. It is myself who is keeping this gravestone in place, even if I don’t realize the reasons of such behavior yet.
It was a big mistake not to have a financial cushion in the business. If not for my own one, things might quickly go south with the start of the war - we couldn’t receive any money for two months. Luckily, the money I accumulated previously allowed me to exist and to pay salaries until new ways of money transferring were established.
If I am to start accumulated a business financial cushion, it’s a complicated decision as of where to store the money. Any bank can rob you anytime because of your Russian origin or due to other reasons sucked out of a thumb. Cryptocurrencies are unstable. Even those which are tied to real currencies, like USDT, can disappear into the thin air one day.
Met T. yesterday. Five hours flew like one second, mostly in discussions about Georgian ap… err… I mean, Georgian people.
I’m in a Georgian taxi. Inside there are:
- Orthodox icons: 7
- Georgian flag: 1
- wooden crucifix: 1
- working A/Cs: 0
Georgians are afraid of car A/Cs, they think A/Cs cause illnesses. They don’t even know how to operate an A/C properly. So, they all drive with windows opened, inhaling dust and exhaust gases all the time. They despise those like me who ask to close the windows.
Georgian girls are strikingly beautiful, however, in most cases their faces are contorted by bitchy grimaces.
Orgasm in my sleep. I had 78 DAO.
Nevzorov: “Those believing in a vertical takeoff of a rabbi will believe anything”.
I can generate anesthesia in nearly any circumstances. Why am I not doing it often then? Am I waiting for an uncle to come and do it for me?
Who hinders me from generating anesthesia every time I encounter a period while reading?
I couldn’t sleep because children were playing loudly in the hotel hall. So, I opened the door and saw one girl and two boys, all looking 7-8 y.o.
I asked them to be more quiet, saying that I want to sleep. The children looked at each other, then the girl contemptuously said: “Russian shit!”, and they started playing and yelling again, paying zero attention to me.
This 4* hotel hosts and feeds Ukrainian refugees for free. I’m paying 1500$ per month for my stay here, my money are used to fund those Ukrainians’ stay, and still I’m the Russian shit to them.
... все, что предсказамус настрадал
What !F users say
Only today learnt about !F and created an account. Have to admit, this site is interesting and special, indeed. The idea is quite the thing! I'll be keeping my diary in spite of anything. I like this anonymity so much!
I really enjoy reading other participants, it's so much more sincere here than in any social network.
Such a funny idea, to keep an online diary, which can be read by anybody - and nobody at the same time.
I like a lot that there are no comments on !F. Here I have an impression that I am writing just for myself. I have less concern that my message will be evaluated.
I like Fragmenter very much. Now I have extra motivation to change. It's a big difference – just write to myself in a paper notebook, or write in order to share my thoughts.
Fragmenter is cool – I start to think once and again why I'm so depressed and how I came to be like that.
Fragmenter is the best thing that happened to me this year!