Applesinterest - Apple

11 Oct

On the matters of god

A pupil gave a rather brilliant devotions during our school asembly. So beautiful that it still stirs the subject upon leaving school: What do i do when all else fails. I say when as this life is absurd and the most random of things should be expected including absolute failure. MC being a christian of course had a heavily god-centred answer: look to god, leaviu\ng my atheist- self unsatifised and somehow angered by this.

I have lived off the premise that god is not good and therefore is undeserving of my life being held in his hands. But I’m struggling to believe that this answer hold any sense anymore. Rejecting god because of the interpretations of him that humans inflicted on him is somewhat unfair, illogical to judge one based off the biased opinion summoned by others.

And is it worth it? Teh question of hope is completely defeated as the most logical answer is that there is no inherit meaning in life, existentialism. Leaving me hopeless.

How unsatisfied i am with the solution to my despair being indifference as i am very naturally inclined to the ideas that life has its good and bad. Well of course this truth can be attributed to the dogmatic brain that picks and drops and eventually results in a moral compass. Yes it is true that life is indifferent towards our perceptions of it but that is the truth that the universe holds and i am a mere fraction of it.

I no longer believe i am capable of being and doing all. I want a separate being to exist from me that can.

I may need God

Back tracking to the question of hope in terms of failure, i have grown fond of the absurdist belief. Live life happily or do not live at all. I have always thought this philosophy was rather extreme as it less no room for grey, no opportunity to question similar to many concepts of Christianity. Extremism. But by adopting this belief i have found myself on either end - extreme happiness and despair.

i hate what you have made me into

resentment is filled within me to the brim. i was born into a family that hates themselves, now i am expected to bare the burden of healing or else all my pain means nothing. or else i will become my parents in my own childrens lives.

i hate that i was never given the opportunity to be unharmed, i wish my story wasnt so hard on my fragile soul, i wish i had no substance or empathy, i wish i was simple...

uncomplicated and obvious.

walking on pain. kodachrome.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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Maybe this is my best

Television is not the truth. Television’s a god-damned amusement park. Television is a circus, a carnival, a traveling troupe of acrobats, storytellers, dancers, singers, jugglers, sideshow freaks, lion tamers, and football players. We’re in the boredom-killing business. So if you want the Truth, go to God! Go to your gurus. Go to yourselves! Because that’s the only place you’re ever gonna find any real truth. But, man, you’re never gonna get any truth from us. We’ll tell you anything you wanna hear. We lie like hell... And no matter how much trouble the hero is in, don’t worry. Just look at your watch. At the end of the hour, he’s gonna win. We’ll tell you any shit you want to hear.

We deal in illusions, man. None of it is true! But you people sit there day after day, night after night, all ages, colors, creeds. We’re all you know. You’re beginning to believe the illusions we’re spinning here. You’re beginning to think that the tube is reality and that your own lives are unreal. You do whatever the tube tells you. You dress like the tube, you eat like the tube, you raise your children like the tube. You even think like the tube. This is mass madness. You maniacs. In God’s name, you people are the real thing. We are the illusion. So turn off your television sets. Turn them off now. Turn them off right now. Turn them off and leave them off. Turn them off right in the middle of this sentence I am speaking to you now. Turn them off!

– Network (1976)

Pea Soupy Fog on St. Patrick's Day. 6:50 to 7:05 am. 51° F, with light rain. March 17, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT (@dkct25)

— dissociation

the book of disquiet by fernando pessoa // a breath of life by clarice lispector // againts the mass of the night by kaye donachie // how to dissapear completely by radiohead // normal people by sally rooney // rené magritte // virgina woolf // by me // enrico robusti

It starts as a harmless poke to my shoulder. Never a serious matter for when I turn to question you, you respond with a bright smile and remind me that it is all friendly.

Your fingerprint begins to stain my shoulders and I turn to inquire your motivations. Quickly I am shut it down cause it’s nothing serious, just a nudge.

Times pass and the skin that you torment is bruising, the pain pulsates although out my body.

Your hand is tainted crimson with my ooze but still you address me with a smile, after all it’s just a nudge.

You burry your way through my skin and uncover the most fragile parts of my being. The foundation that I am built on is disrupted by your omnipotent presence that chips away at me.

I garner up the courage to question your antics as my bones begin to splinter.

But there is no body to restore me, I am spoilt beyond recovery.

Once again I feel like the world is craving in on me. The memory of someone that passed haunts me. What could I have done to make his short life more pleasing, he died feeling distaste for me, how pathetic I am for being with one of his friends.

And what makes this even sadder is that I’ve made my grief all about me. It’s like this disgusting self centred attitude makes path to my selfishness. It scares me.