Безіменний

It was a very convoluted part of my life.
I'm starting to think it wasn't too bad after all.
I always start to think so about shit when some time passes, usually years. Sometimes decades.

Not too bad -- going home after work, strolling the frozen big city streets.
Not too bad -- nightly gaming sessions alone, just to forget the sounds outside and the life outside.
Not too bad -- smoking pipe at the office balcony downtown, joking with friends about all shit.

There was a very sinister backdrop of this, our time was literally running out.
But here I am, trying to break free but never being free.

I valued freedom more than anything.
My own one, and one of others.
Others forsake it.
So be it.

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

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.

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 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.

Here, so I stand here again
I needed a break
I needed a break
So badly,
Nearest possible route
Is now going through pain
That I'm ready to take,
That I'm ready to take.
Exactly whom
I am going to blame
For my paradise lost
For my paradise burnt
To ashes?
Well, It's the question to those
Who are twisting the ropes,
Who are pulling the strings
Of passion.
Drink.
Let the fog slip away,
Let the fog wash away
Your sorrow.
Past
Is your only desire
But you face is so tired
And you face only dire
Tomorrow
Is nasty day you do not
Is a day you ought not
Want to happen
But
You will push it away
For another one day
Until your inner flame
Will blacken.

I am that puny unbendable twig,
Which is grown up in a scorched hilltop.
Only myself I was able to tweak
How my whole life was inclined to drop

From the illusions to bitter exile,
From overheighted midair to the mud.
I saw no good, I was overtly vile
Now I am nothing but dried, silly rod.

Violets are violet,
Roses are black.
We mourn ourselves,
There's no running back.

(Это, конечно, не хокку, но именно оно подумалось мне, когда взгяд упал на очередную старую фотографию)

"Hold on to people they're slipping away"
(Moby)
Это всё, чем я занимался большУю часть своей жизни.
Грустно.
Да.
.
За бортом +12 и мы продолжаем.
(Здесь я написал имя на языке, который пока еще нельзя перевести автотранслейтом, но передумал)
Да. Всё чаще приходится думать что-то вроде "Who the fuck remembers someone named %name%?"
Only me, I think.
That's really sad.
The only thing that keeps me alive is my ever-surviving interest about this silly part of Universe named "Here and now".
And some people that still remain conscious in this unforgettable mess do play some part in it, I'll grant'em that.

Вот сейчас меня сильно беспокоит моя левая сторона тела и наличие эвтаназии в ближайших государствах.
Хер с ней с левой стороной, но если полностью парализует, это херовая жизнь, я ж не Стивен Хокинг, в конце концов.
Паралича нет нигде пока, но то, _насколько_ поменялось ощущение в левой стороне тела, реально бесит.
На выходных особо не чувствовалось, но сейчас как-то не отак аж совсем.
Даже левый глаз видит всё темнее.

Эквалайзер на максимум.
Лечим нервы.
Amon Amarth, Slipknot, Ill Nino.
I'm going out from this fucking world.

Daylight dims leaving cold fluorescence.
Difficult to see you in this light.
Please forgive this bold suggestion.
Should you see your maker's face tonight,
Look him in the eye.
Look him in the eye and tell him,
I never lived a lie, never took a life,
But surely saved one.
(Tool)
Что-то как-то не отак.
Всё-таки то было краткое прояснение мыслей.
Опять хочется зарыться в нору и спать, пока не отпустит.
Почему-то вспомнил про Genie.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genie_%28feral_child%29
Мне всегда было интересно, каким был мир из ее головы?

И война, и мир делят людей не по тем признакам.
С добрым утром всех.

Нейтральность.
Что-то происходит.
Сон, я помню сон.
Вернее, я вспомнил о нем с утра, и отмел как обычный, выражающий мои подсознательные вещи, которые мне известны.
"Он был в чем-то прав. Я всегда долго пытаюсь вспомнить, в чем именно, а потом вспоминаю. Он был прав в том, что нужно несколько агентов для принятия решений, и тебе их неоткуда взять, кроме как из своей головы. Но он пошел неправильным путем, он всегда трудно _контролировал_ свои желания."
Некоторые сны я не хочу видеть.
Словами сложно описать некоторые вещи в нашей с вами жизни.
Фрэг для меня немного как омут памяти -- то, что я здесь написал, можно чуть-чуть забыть.
.
Плюсовая температура.
Облака скрывают происходящее.
Я один.

Кофе@работаСделана.
Зачем Бо дублирует свой пост на хинди?
Мне нужно многому научиться.
.
Идя по следам, понял, что своих отклонений не следует бояться, их надо использовать.
Каждый раз, когда во мне что-то становится на место, я думаю, что все уже стало на свои места.
И знаю, что это не так.
.
Воспоминания со школы у меня гораздо лучше, чем у большинства здешних обитателей.
Мне посчастливилось там найти даже не Учителя -- Учителей.
Целых 5. Это весьма маловероятное событие.
Я нашел там Друга -- это тоже не так уж вероятно.
Ну и да, со школой связано в какой-то мере то, кого я безоговорочно считаю своим врагом.
.
Так что школа много мне дала.
Не в смысле знаний, конечно.
Учителя учили думать

У меня наконец-то включили свет
Америкос^Wиндус^Wиндоамериканцы выбесили меня на работе до ужаса.
Завтра тяжелый день.
Но, может, схожу проветрюсь к морю.
А сейчас -- KSP, читать с девченкой вслух и спать =)