Question: Where does time go? Does it just… move on? Do we, humans, move on the way time does? How do humans move on? Is Death perhaps the Movement? Surely, death is only a phase we must pass through in order to Move On from Life?
We are always waiting, even if we are not conscious of it. We wait for meetings, we wait for appointments, we wait for people… and we wait for time. A time where we must do certain things, go certain places, act certain ways and say certain things. We wait for tomorrow; we wait for days that may not come. We wait for our loved ones, we wait for the Right Moments.
A man who murdered his own heart, convinced it would give him the world; the saddest thing was that, it did.
Nothing hurts more than the helplessness that punched at his gut. Who could ever tell the difference between him of the present and him of the past? Was he a changed man? Could a man ever change or does he simply shred his own skin like a serpent and anew himself raw and sly within his new form? Half the world thinks not while the other half thinks so. Was he a different man, or was he simply who he had been but with new struggles? Being alive, or just breathing, seemed to be like so much work. One would say being born is similar to a kidnapping, then being enslaved to human trafficking. You can never rest. You can never stop. You, too, are not allowed to die ‘lest society declares an execution over your head.
“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”
I desperately hope there’d be another way, for I do not wish to lose my beating heart to the cruel world.
The subject I avoid to speak of is ‘love’. I always label it as an anchor that sinks a ship. It is difficult to speak of, for I am filled with dubiousness and uncertainties. I detested the idea of heartaches, hopelessness, attachments and all of love’s aftermath.
Evidently, I am full of uncertainties—anything is possible. Love is not just a commitment, love is a contract. Love: conditions that are like vines that bind you and your soul to a certain… very human being. Therefore, it is never eternal. How would you know that when a heart meets another heart—the moment the connection is made—it isn’t a star-crossed path? What if in that nanosecond, that connection is only a cosmic malfunction of two lives that are meant to be forever parallel?
Then the universe straightens out nicely again, and your heart is the only thing that is holding on.
It’s like squinting for happiness where there is none. The only solution is to know that it is not the place for happiness, that it is elsewhere, but love makes you hold onto that person anyway because of emotional attachments.
The key, I suppose, is to try to understand. All in all, do not dwell too deep, for you may not ever make it out.
Try to piece the puzzle of your heart together, meander once in a while, but always find a way back.
A heart isn’t a linear organism. It doesn’t just flicker black white black white… not left right left right, either. A heart contracts in out, up down and then… disappears. A heart that symbolizes love isn’t going to portray a love in which one falls into.
Because people do not fall in love. They can’t—love isn’t a hole, it isn’t a pit. And even if it is, it’d be one that is so endless that one could toss a coin and never hear it hit bottom.
“When you look at the world, what do you see.
The past repeating itself–
Or the future of what could be?”
The two most critical disadvantages of the ability to see the bigger picture are that most of the times, (1) you most likely are the only one to see it, and (2) it leads to an accumulation of emotional turmoil—that is if you are one who empathise best with other people’s pain. Although, I’d like to think most of us, on some level have that humane ability in us. The important thing is whether or not you are morally inclined to use it.
I used to think (perhaps I still do), that those who communicate with others through emotions are the ones who hurt best. So, why continue then, if it hurts? I’ve heard that question frequently. The answer is simple, it makes us feel human (and trust me, not many know the true essence of humanity anymore). For instance, some are prone to communicate through actions or, through a certain professional lexicon—well, think of emotion as an embodiment of an abstract lexicon. Empathy is a dying language.
Rain droplets race down the windows like cars. The sky is murky—its colour is the embodiment of exhaustion. The sun is hiding, somewhere, behind the thick mass of clouds—I just can’t see it yet. From this sickly hospital window, I can see the vehicles move as though they are remote-controlled toys. People mill about like steady, working dung beetles. They hold their briefcases and black umbrellas as they slide into their old cars or bright yellow cabs. People people people, they all blend together. They all look the same as they enter buildings or leave stores or climb up steps or make a phone call. It’s disgusting.
(you think, “how am i worth anything when even my mother says i am nothing?”) i could tell you to never listen, to not take it to heart, but that’d be the pot calling the kettle black. truth is, you won’t get anywhere in life if you listen. mothers have that effect on you; you can’t ever get used to the punctures she leaves behind when she carves toxic into the back of your skull every time you fall, every hiss of breath. and facts like these are impossible to forget. it’s a defect on your skin that makes your existence anything but easier. and if you do not understand any of this then i am immensely happy for your wellbeing. the simplest way i can lay it out for you is: nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors.
OP on ‘genetic engineering’ (aka. what I wrote for a certain someone’s project at the very beginning of this year. I found it again, so I thought I’d post it).
Before we begin, there is one major question that may pose as the most crucial point of all when looking into the practices of genetic engineering in terms of humanity: the question of agenda.
Through practices of genetic engineering, which has been sought out to mean numerous hazy different things relative to the countless of those speaking of the subject with little to no prerequisite knowledge to have any right to talk at all (as Wittgenstein put it, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.”), we must focus on the originating agenda of genetic engineering to make any reducible theory whether to agree or disagree.
save yourself, keep it hidden.