I died.
I died all those years ago
But I didn't

Things just happened over my dead body which, purely by coincidence, was alive.
"Are you a native English speaker"?
Fuck man, I learned your language after I died. I didn't even live knowing it.
Or did I?

Nothing is better than than the feeling you would never have again.

I am just trying to be honest, as if it could help.
The train is gone, and the damage was done.

There is nothing they can fix.
There is nothing I can fix.
I doubt that there's real me somewhere sometimes.

It's something permanent. Something that is here FOREVER.
I've made grave mistakes by not acknowledging it in my life.
I'm breathing out smoke I didn't inhale.
I've lost.

I wake up.
I speak The Name.
c***d.
I wake up again.
The awakening.

it is not great, to relive everything that was happening.
Bang -- and you're at the mountain P.
Bang -- and it's a cold morning, you need to get up and drag yourself to a 9am meeting, and a parcel with your new wallet had just arrived.

I always regarded wallets as a sign of dull stupidity of a boring and grown up person.
Now I am that person.
A fat, boring, grown up slime of a man.

One friend of mine was whining today that she cannot hold any further in this life -- and I thought that it was exactly how I feel about all the shit sometimes.
But I wake up.
I speak The Name.
c***d.
And I wake up again.
And again
And again
And

Explicit is better than implicit
Simple is better than complex
Complex is better than complicated
Flat is better than nested
Special cases aren't special enough to break the rules
Errors should never pass silently
Now is better than never

Ghosting, also known as simmering or icing, is a colloquial term which describes the practice of ending all communication and contact with another person without any apparent warning or justification and subsequently ignoring any attempts to reach out or communication made by said person.

Do I want to return?
Hell yes.
Even after all those years.

Do I picture it, do I dream about it?
No.

I could not imagine it anymore.
I will persevere until the end, trying to make better choices and eventually failing.
I will not end here today.

I don't want to burn anymore.
I don't want to die anymore, and for a long time.
I want to be left in peace, meditating alone.
Do I?

There are too many of us inside me.
I even don't want my life to serve a purpose.
I am going with the flow, and I want it to carry me.

Long gone are the days where I asked if I could change the flow by making calculated moves.
I can't.

Death before d^W
No.
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.
Bullshit.

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?
DID I?
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

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.
I failed to uphold to the standards I wanted to uphold to, and the world had failed me back.
That simple.
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.
That simple.

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”.