achillesnuts
Member
Hurr's a little art I've drawn.
I have no scanner. These pictures are straight from my phone. Should be good enough quality though.
Also, some writing.
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Is it?
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I am.
Drugs have coursed through my heart. In the same way my thoughts sprint through my mind.
Is it this that makes me an ugly person?
With America at its peak of stupidity, it is. With utter ignorance spewing like milk from a cow's utter.
Dare I utter a word? Should I, instead, utter a phrase? A paragraph? A novel?
Or, perhaps, I should stay silent. I should let my thoughts eat at me from the inside like a tapeworm.
Make me skinny thoughts.
I shouldn't mention that, perhaps, you should educate yourself before trying to remedy a sickness. I should blindly down a bottle of hydrochloric acid. In hopes that this is the cure for my illness.
What is my illness? Is it ignorance? Is it stubbornness? Or is it that I have been too sheltered?
Is it my fault I haven't been educated correctly in public schooling? Should I have taken time out of my life to find the right answers? Maybe I shouldn't believe in foolish ideas just to feel safe.
Or is it this which they want me to think? My enemies are cunning and silent. They subliminally advertise to me. They tell me what I want to hear, yet when the subliminal messages are brought to light, they are silent. They must be true.
Silence is golden. Or is silence admission of guilt?
But then, what is guilt? What is what? When humans decide what is and what isn't, how can I decipher the truth? Can I decipher the truth?
And this brings to light another question. What is truth?
When I create an idea, that idea is true to me. But is it true to everyone else? It could possibly be.
After years of brainwashing I make my ideas true. What I create is truth. And therefore, what you think is wrong. Unless, of course, you think of my ideas. Which are true, mind you.
But is it? How can it be?
How did we come to be? A god? An unknown force?
How is it that I have crossed broad spectra with these words? How is it that you know what I mean?
A word is a word, but what is a word? Letters? Nouns? Verbs? What, or who, is the deciding factor? Is it a mass of society that consequently agrees on certain ideas? Is it an idea that is forced to be defined in such a way?
Do I make sense? But then, what is sense? How does one make sense? By speaking with meaning knowingly? Is sense a certain point that is reached? How does one reach that point? For what makes sense to you doesn't make sense to me. Vice Versa.
Are we connected unconsciously? Is it that which helps us make "sense" of this all? This all being life.
When we consider that we truthfully know nothing, is it that which makes us all-knowing?
Am I writing a novel? Am I writing a questionnaire? Why am I alone writing this at 9:16 p.m. Central U.S. time? Shouldn't I be out with other lost souls such as myself? Should I? Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I be out there casting aside these questions? Is life meant for questioning or enjoyment? Should I question all or cast aside all so that I may enjoy what it is?
What is it?
I have no scanner. These pictures are straight from my phone. Should be good enough quality though.
Also, some writing.
-------
Is it?
-------
I am.
Drugs have coursed through my heart. In the same way my thoughts sprint through my mind.
Is it this that makes me an ugly person?
With America at its peak of stupidity, it is. With utter ignorance spewing like milk from a cow's utter.
Dare I utter a word? Should I, instead, utter a phrase? A paragraph? A novel?
Or, perhaps, I should stay silent. I should let my thoughts eat at me from the inside like a tapeworm.
Make me skinny thoughts.
I shouldn't mention that, perhaps, you should educate yourself before trying to remedy a sickness. I should blindly down a bottle of hydrochloric acid. In hopes that this is the cure for my illness.
What is my illness? Is it ignorance? Is it stubbornness? Or is it that I have been too sheltered?
Is it my fault I haven't been educated correctly in public schooling? Should I have taken time out of my life to find the right answers? Maybe I shouldn't believe in foolish ideas just to feel safe.
Or is it this which they want me to think? My enemies are cunning and silent. They subliminally advertise to me. They tell me what I want to hear, yet when the subliminal messages are brought to light, they are silent. They must be true.
Silence is golden. Or is silence admission of guilt?
But then, what is guilt? What is what? When humans decide what is and what isn't, how can I decipher the truth? Can I decipher the truth?
And this brings to light another question. What is truth?
When I create an idea, that idea is true to me. But is it true to everyone else? It could possibly be.
After years of brainwashing I make my ideas true. What I create is truth. And therefore, what you think is wrong. Unless, of course, you think of my ideas. Which are true, mind you.
But is it? How can it be?
How did we come to be? A god? An unknown force?
How is it that I have crossed broad spectra with these words? How is it that you know what I mean?
A word is a word, but what is a word? Letters? Nouns? Verbs? What, or who, is the deciding factor? Is it a mass of society that consequently agrees on certain ideas? Is it an idea that is forced to be defined in such a way?
Do I make sense? But then, what is sense? How does one make sense? By speaking with meaning knowingly? Is sense a certain point that is reached? How does one reach that point? For what makes sense to you doesn't make sense to me. Vice Versa.
Are we connected unconsciously? Is it that which helps us make "sense" of this all? This all being life.
When we consider that we truthfully know nothing, is it that which makes us all-knowing?
Am I writing a novel? Am I writing a questionnaire? Why am I alone writing this at 9:16 p.m. Central U.S. time? Shouldn't I be out with other lost souls such as myself? Should I? Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I be out there casting aside these questions? Is life meant for questioning or enjoyment? Should I question all or cast aside all so that I may enjoy what it is?
What is it?