NIHILISM> FROM THE LATIN 'NIHIL'(NOTHING)

The product of doubt, distress and disorientation.

Welcome: 'Terrible Truths' [ I LOVE ALLITERATIONS THIS MUCH ] <3

I thought it would be ok to share. Hell, even necessary in these wicked times of optimisms and crisis. In these, the times, where you are sure you recognize this freshly-fucked feeling of deja vú but you can't exactly put your finger on it. Because it would be socially awkward. And who needs that at(in) this day and age?

Hmmm, now that I think about it. We should leave my discourse of programmed philosophical despair for later. Lets take the pre-scheduled approach to this.

A reaction (or a reflection) of recent events. That is what a journal is all about. Not a diary, not a documentary of daily events.

This year I've been subject of change. I'm going to call it a fart. Kind of like an existentialist hiatus. Yes. That.

"... and this is how your life is supposed to turn out"
Fuck that I say. Love. Family. Work. A Profession. Your Life. Your Passion. Abstract social laws to benefit obscure entities.

= Induced means of control =

You'd think I should be smarter by know. I could be a doctor by know. When you count down the facts...its really depressing.

Wherever this leads me. Wherever I let it take me. I refuse to go back to happy and normal and stable. I'm afraid I can't afford it. With all this imperfections I mean.

But I don't want to re-live all the fucking mistakes now do I? But I read, once, that is the only way to keep yourself young. Find your biggest mistakes. Then do it all over again. Are we all avoiding risks to make it safely to death???

I won't. Death won't beat me to it.

So what do you say? "something beautiful or something free?"

I like men. I like how men look sleeping. I like muscle cars. I like men sleeping in muscle cars.

I really do like how men look sleeping. Something about the way their lips relax and their brow furrows and that shy rosy blush and "serious happy noises" they make when they have a particular nice dream.

I'll go on with my life, trying to keep some decent clothing on my back and my hands busy.

I wish I could attach some pictures to this. Since decent journals have pictures and drawings in them. But hell, I can still draw something up.

THE THREAT IS REAL.

FINAL WORDS?

NONE OF YOUR DECISIONS TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE ARE FINAL>


>>SO

HERE's TO LIFE...


NOW, your turn, tell me a gross personal story...


[...]
I'll be back when I sell out.