Psucheworld

Boass can I go hoame I lack the human spirit

Me talking about writing: It’s holy, to create. To make something out of nothing and emptiness. To make somethings broken and somethings full. Somethings tragic and somethings wonderful. To put into words that sharpness of living, the vivid colors, the ones that gray. How truely godly it is! How devine! To create in our own image, whatever image we wish. So is the nature of life! Out of us constantly emerging something, something, something. So is the nature of man, to make ourselves gods. What else is there but that? But our eternal making, time snatching at it with such clawing hands. What rebellious little things we are. What impudent, what childish, what stupid, what brilliant gods we are.

Me writing: click clack

“what is the purpose of philosophy if not to find increasingly convoluted ways to call historical figures gay.” 

reading back an email i sent to my english teacher while i was having an episode and holy shit

guiding light

little crazy love song by Mary Oliver

literally die

is no one else gonna. talk about how sokrates understood moksha

‘I Need Autonomy’ inspired by Jenny Holzer