the psychological explanation for why you find more comfort in libraries than you did in your mother's womb-
Sadness is a poor, tired man, searching within us for a rib to rest his head on, away from the laughter of joy that awakens him.
I'm pretty sure I just accidentally declared war on a flock of pigeons using a series of nonsensical emoji.
Arguing is my number 1 hobby and I despise people who hate arguments or they just simply say something to end it, how BORING can you be.
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Forwarded from bullshitting to all
"Beauty means nothing to you,
You just want someone whom you can't devour that easily"
You just want someone whom you can't devour that easily"
and perhaps the lake was created for the pebbles distorting it, stripping it of its right to be a mirror to anything.
I literally love to leave like... I love to go. I love to vanish, I love to exit, The minute I'm not enjoying myself I literally have no choice but to bounce. But you are different– you stay– like the stain I couldn't rub off my favorite shirt, the one I've tried to scrub away countless times, but refused to budge.
I've thrown that shirt in the wash, soaked it in bleach, even considered throwing it away altogether. But I can't. It's my favorite, damn it. And besides, the stain… it's part of the shirt now. It's a part of me
I've thrown that shirt in the wash, soaked it in bleach, even considered throwing it away altogether. But I can't. It's my favorite, damn it. And besides, the stain… it's part of the shirt now. It's a part of me
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I believe in simple life, one where tea gets cold because I am busy looking out the window
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I keep on wishing I was more than I am, but even when I become more I feel I'm still way less than I was before.
I keep asking myself to try harder, but the harder I try the less I feel the appeal to achieve what I perceive as something that would make me want to live.
I keep getting up and trying to move past the horrors of my mind and leave all I felt behind, but the more I try to get away I see there were more to find.
I keep on trying to grasp those few seconds of faith I feel once in a while, but since I felt one it's been a while.
I keep asking myself to try harder, but the harder I try the less I feel the appeal to achieve what I perceive as something that would make me want to live.
I keep getting up and trying to move past the horrors of my mind and leave all I felt behind, but the more I try to get away I see there were more to find.
I keep on trying to grasp those few seconds of faith I feel once in a while, but since I felt one it's been a while.
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Ditch the theatrics. I don't want to understand. Seriously. Everyone's always pushing for clarity, for answers, for a neat little explanation for everything. But honestly? I'm good.
It's not like I'm actively trying to be dumb. It's more like…I'm comfortable with the mystery. The world is confusing, life is confusing, and sometimes, the most honest response is just to shrug and say, "I dunno."
Plus, understanding things is hard work. It requires effort, analysis, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. And frankly, I'm lazy. Ignorance is bliss, and I'm perfectly happy wallowing in my blissful ignorance.
People keep telling me I need to be more informed, to stay up-to-date on current events, to engage in intellectual discussions. But honestly, the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know. It's an endless cycle of increasing anxiety and existential dread. So, I'm opting out.
It's not that I'm against knowledge, per se. It's just that I'm perfectly content with the knowledge I already have. I know how to make coffee, I know how to binge-watch Netflix, and I know how to avoid awkward social interactions(thats a fucking lie but noone has to know that). What more do I really need?
So, yeah, I don't want to understand. I want to stay in my little bubble of comfortable confusion, blissfully unaware of the complexities of the world. It's not the most responsible approach, maybe, but it's the one that makes me the happiest. And honestly, isn't that what really matters in the end? Just let me be. Don't try to make me smart. I'm perfectly happy being blissfully, wonderfully confused.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go try to teach myself to play the ukulele using only binary code. Wish me luck! (I'm going to need it).
It's not like I'm actively trying to be dumb. It's more like…I'm comfortable with the mystery. The world is confusing, life is confusing, and sometimes, the most honest response is just to shrug and say, "I dunno."
Plus, understanding things is hard work. It requires effort, analysis, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. And frankly, I'm lazy. Ignorance is bliss, and I'm perfectly happy wallowing in my blissful ignorance.
People keep telling me I need to be more informed, to stay up-to-date on current events, to engage in intellectual discussions. But honestly, the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know. It's an endless cycle of increasing anxiety and existential dread. So, I'm opting out.
It's not that I'm against knowledge, per se. It's just that I'm perfectly content with the knowledge I already have. I know how to make coffee, I know how to binge-watch Netflix, and I know how to avoid awkward social interactions(thats a fucking lie but noone has to know that). What more do I really need?
So, yeah, I don't want to understand. I want to stay in my little bubble of comfortable confusion, blissfully unaware of the complexities of the world. It's not the most responsible approach, maybe, but it's the one that makes me the happiest. And honestly, isn't that what really matters in the end? Just let me be. Don't try to make me smart. I'm perfectly happy being blissfully, wonderfully confused.
In a world that's increasingly obsessed with order and control, the greatest act of rebellion is to embrace the beautiful, terrifying, and utterly hilarious chaos of confusion
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go try to teach myself to play the ukulele using only binary code. Wish me luck! (I'm going to need it).
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