God take my minority status and gift it to middle class white people who want it #please

To have roots—and still possess the courage to pull them from the earth.

Because what is a life, after all, if you remain in the same place merely because you were born there?

And what is freedom if you spend your whole life running simply because you are afraid to stay?

"What if the life I have been given is not the life I was meant to keep?" No, no, there is one person who asks whether meaning was ever there to begin with, and that's Dostoevsky or me, Dad!

i need to tap into the level of manipulation that albert camus has been wielding over an entire generation

"Touched the ocean fell right in
Stepped outside and burned my skin
My life wont go my way" yt trying way too hard https://youtu.be/PU5lKIAW6qE?si=BmiwYjubXdC4UZ6O

In another universe the nonsense made sense

Police officers are nothing more than a governments armed thugs and enforcers of capitalist interests.

I live for casual intimacy

Trying not to pull a frustrated hayao miyazaki every ten seconds

Technology is making us depend less on each other, but what will be left of human connection if the only reason we ever approached each other was to ask for something we desperately needed?

I think I've spent most of my life in the back seat.Not necessarily unhappy, not necessarily uncomfortable. Just... there. Watching someone else drive while I got used to the view.
And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.

That's what makes it so hard to explain. Because sometimes I look at my life and think, "What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have."

But then someone asks me something simple.

"What are you passionate about?"

And I don't know.

"What do you want to do with your life?"

I don't know.

"What do you think love is?"

...I don't know.

And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just 'know'. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank. It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually. I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.
Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.

So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.

And I know how ridiculous that sounds.

I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.

Maybe they're right.

Maybe I am being ungrateful.

Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.
Absolutely — more natural, less like a perfectly constructed monologue, and more like someone slowly realizing what they actually mean while talking.

I think I've spent most of my life in the back seat.

Not necessarily unhappy, not necessarily uncomfortable. Just... there. Watching someone else drive while I got used to the view.

And the weird thing is, I can't even point at my life and say I have nothing. I have things. I have people. I have opportunities. I have so many things that, if I ever complained about feeling empty, I'd probably sound like the most ungrateful person alive.

That's what makes it so hard to explain.

Because sometimes I look at my life and think, *What exactly am I missing? You literally have everything you're supposed to have.*

But then someone asks me something simple.

"What are you passionate about?"

And I don't know.

"What do you want to do with your life?"

I don't know.

"What do you think love is?"

...I don't know.

And it's embarrassing because these are supposed to be the things you just *know*. Things you're supposed to have some deep answer for. But when someone asks me, my mind just goes completely blank.

It's not that I don't have feelings. I do. I think too much, actually.

I just don't always know which thoughts are mine.

Sometimes I wonder if I've spent so long doing what made sense, what was expected, what seemed right, that I forgot to stop and ask myself what I actually wanted.

So now I have this strange feeling of having a life without completely feeling like it's mine.

And I know how ridiculous that sounds.

I know there are people who would look at everything I have and wonder how I could possibly feel this way.

Maybe they're right.

Maybe I am being ungrateful.

Or maybe you can appreciate the life you've been given and still wonder, quietly, whether you ever learned how to choose one for yourself.

i hate long drives

And yet the greatest miracle of this age is not artificial intelligence, nor machines that fit inside a pocket.

It is the astonishing confidence of people who know absolutely nothing and have somehow monetized the condition

Don't use AI to make art.
Use childhood trauma like a real artist.

I think I just spent too much time staring at the cracks and eventually started mistaking them for windows.

how i love verbal fencing

I don't care what Google says; choice and decision are a whole different matter!

We have taken the entirely human fact that lives unfold differently and turned it into a race, then punished ourselves for not arriving at the same places at the same time. and they say we woke tf

There is something almost pathetic about becoming your own harshest judge and then calling it discipline. As if kindness would make me lazy, as if forgiveness would make me weak, as if I must keep myself slightly miserable just to remain useful.

I appear like I am chronically online, but perhaps that is only because I was built from algorithms

A little bit of everything the internet kept throwing at me—an opinion here, a strange joke there, some obscure piece of history I had no business knowing, three different philosophies at two in the morning, a song I heard once and somehow made part of my personality, and an unreasonable amount of information that will probably never become useful.