Hello Subconcious

Hello subconcious.

The week's been so suffocatingly stressful that all i've managed to do is shrink into my own personal haven of delusion and blissful ignorance-apparently now i know my limits,and how cowardly i respond to tension and troubling times.It's so unfunny,this coincidence that you decide to delve deeper into such abstract thoughts that occupy such lengthy times such as the meaning of life and pursuit of dreams at such an important time-its as if the moment i decide to do something,the entire universe unites to conpire against me.In a way its such a beautiful thing,the way you pull me deeper into my own self-absorbed universe,this haven i spoke of before that is completely separate from reality and logic-that in this place i lay alone with my own fictional characters and the personalities i've provided them:the unstable adults whose own partial insanities bear striking resemblance to my own inability to function in life,the companions who sometimes fill me with doubt and distrust during those moments where the closeness of our relationships seem to be void of meaning and replaced with only with my own desperate need to be loved,this uncontrolable desire to feel important the least,has distorted my true definition and forcefully molded me into something the world might find more loving,tolerable and interesting.Oh there i go again trying to give words to you (dear subconcious) and the thoughts you place in my head,when really my attempts at reasoning and rationalising my own sorrow and confusion only adds to it all,as if my search for light in an unlit room has somehow made the room much larger than it was,and perhaps the best thing to do would be to simply stop analyzing or trying to understand and continue living life without speculating at every single incident or peculiar curiousity,this would ultimately make me a more resilient man and free me from my own paranoia and the other disorders that lay like sleeping dogs inside my mind,once only awakened when provoked,i am now almost powerless in controlling their patterns and the privellege of choice has now rightfully become theirs.

Perhaps you've made me too indulgent in my own sorrows and this selfishness has made me bitter and spiteful,but i am confident when i say that despite what evil messages and tales you might try to tell me i do believe i too,like almost everyone else,own an 'inner goodness'-an ability to love without reason,and not become too absorbed in my own darkness to not realise that the world too has its shares of wars and fights that might require my assistance:famine,poverty?Hurm,perhaps then i should reform myself into a sort of moral evangelist,throwing my hatred to the world into an imaginary blackhole where every spect of negativity i have is inevitably sucked away only to be replaced with the kind will to forgive and make do with whatever i am left with.

Oh once again words fail to deconstruct my true feelings,those evasive,nasty little creatures that seem to be running around my head,causing chaos by refusing to let me define them in words-an although my brain extracts long,complicated sentences full of rubbish these words don't seem to help me at all,as they only give more texture to those feelings,from being simple,one-dimensional people with no depth or personaliztion whatsoever my dangerous words have given them texture and breadth,and now they roam freely pulling strings and causing havoc only to be effectively controlled during those rare times when i stray so far into my fantasies and delusions that the artificial idea of happiness seems to give me armor from such malice.Well,i hope you're proud my dear subconcious,you evil,evil thing.Once again i've sat down with determination to understand myself,with the help of language and my own power of reason,but once again you've spoiled this and made it another futile,pathetic activitiy that has lead me nowhere and given me nothing constructive in return,and once again this has become a complete waste of time.Yes,i know,you've told me many times before that psychiatric treatment (psychoanalysis?are you kidding me?) but i i was born into a world that puts value on independant survival,where breakdowns and petty emotions are percieved as signs of weakness-therefore i will try to survive without the help of therapy,and perhaps if you still want me to do so just consider our casual conversations (like this one) to be a form of therapy.If not,get over it and let me live with guts-that is,fuck psychology,emotion,freud and all the many imbeciles who support his unashamed attempts at unravelling the human into a complex creature of sorts-we are essentially savage animals,using our physical strength and tendency for foolish,unreasoned rage to survive.

Oh,don't kid yourself dear subconcious.You're so full of bullshit,twisting you contradictory words and inconspicuous thoughts into fences that shield you from the truth,but know that sooner or later these weak walls you've constructed will eventually fall-and to face the unavoidable mighty truth will be your final punishment,and i can only wish you luck for the suffering you are fated to confront once all you fall.

And i will laugh with all the sense humour i can find in me,for all the years you've made ME suffer and for the heartless person i've become.Ha-ha!Die fool,die!


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