Quote:
Originally Posted by c.d.m.
I meant in the existential sense:
Who are you?
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Emanuel Kant is probably right and my guess is that I'm typing this while sitting inside some random object and ya'll are just some weird fucks my brain has created to make my so called existence bearable while I try to run from the the pain I was born in but can never escape. The metaphore and irony of my own life would probably reach the top if I'm writing this inside a closed five foot thick door in some psychiatric institution located in a different dimension that merged with ours.
Who I am? My existential state is just as real as I want it to be but my manipulative skills in rearranging my own thought patterns to cope with what I have isn't strong enough to make a significant difference in my own ''life''. All I can do is hope and keep diving into the abyss of my own mental state in order to find an answer I can live with. Alltho' a positive outlook on life and a huge circle of friends seems to be working and the belief that the butterfly effect will give my death a meaning, it still doesn't affect me enough to give that girl behind the counter a real smile and family+friends will forever be shadows of my own wicked imagination that they matter in a larger sense. Even when the butterfly effect is added to the math it doesn't change much in my personality, but it's worth to mention because it's a part of who I am and the reason I keep on fighting for what I have managed to believe is the greater good.