tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201561311339174582012-01-29T18:36:59.706ZThis is the diary and philosophy of one mind lost amidst billions of others- infinity. I accept that I know nothing and that by trying to understand myself first I can one day hope to understand the world. There is madness involved in the process as I step away from all that is taken for granted.Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.comBlogger1461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-63759046847253963742012-01-29T12:06:00.004Z2012-01-29T18:36:08.704Z

Looking back on history as we know it, the collective 'memory' of it all when it came to living within society is that of being shackled to rigid rules, with more or less of a weight on one's shoulders depending on their rank in terms of social obligations and duties. Everyone knew their place, it was clearer than clear. That is not to say that one of the most powerful momentums for some people

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-1376333077371184782012-01-23T21:46:00.003Z2012-01-29T18:36:59.717Z

I've started reading some Ancient Greek literature all over again, starting with plays. Tonight was a short, tragic one called Medea by Euripides. It's interesting how lucid these ancient ones were when it came to portray their reality, even as they immersed the latter in a flurry of fantasy adventures. The bottom line was always tinged with the painful aspects of reality humans must bear...

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-76877250816569924992012-01-16T18:37:00.003Z2012-01-16T20:00:58.651Z

I wake up in the morning a couple of hours before I really need to get up for work. Thinking about it, it makes me feel like I'm not just waking up because I have work. Some days are easier than others, but more often than not I'll spend some time hitting the snooze button until the clock reaches around 6am. I then emerge from the comfort of my bed - I do it fast, as one would rip out a band aid

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-46594805917778654732012-01-15T15:33:00.003Z2012-01-15T16:31:01.499Z

Saying good bye to things we never thought would be so hard to leave... That process seems to occur every time our ego construct no longer wins over Reality, or when it suddenly ceases to be possible to cover Reality under a veil of self-deception, or illusions. It's the exact same process, it seems, as that of children who suddenly realise they'll never get to fly like Superman, and as their

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-77396435980925008912012-01-02T21:34:00.003Z2012-01-02T21:51:29.166Z

There is a saying in French that goes: 'Etre en osmose avec quelque chose', which really means 'to be in sync with something', except the French use the word osmosis in a figurative context here, and I'm not sure that's the case in English, but there you go. That word 'osmosis' came to mind earlier as I looked back in time briefly through my mind's eye.I wondered why that word came to mind as I

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-17123645039492413032012-01-02T11:42:00.004Z2012-01-02T17:01:27.936Z

A couple of weeks ago I saw a strange man sitting on the train looking like he was trying to meditate. As the train filled up with more and more people, the man's attempts at deep concentration went up a notch, too. The crowds forced me to stand right in front of him, so I started glancing down at him discreetly to observe what he was doing. In my head, I was almost talking to him, thinking: "

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-39483801426586289332011-12-26T19:04:00.003Z2011-12-26T19:54:13.780Z

What a year it's been... I experienced a first 'relationship', and what's funny about romantically-involved relationships is how close two people get, but once it breaks, it is as though the two people in question never ever knew each other. Unlike friendship, there can be no mending. Once over, both parties separate completely. There are always exceptions to rules, so there may be some people

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-752084785253559222011-12-25T20:36:00.003Z2011-12-25T21:21:50.856Z

"If one ever wanted proof of Darwin's contention that the many expressions of emotion in humans are universal, genetically inscribed, then a few minutes by the arrival gate in Heathrow's Terminal Four should suffice. I saw the same joy, the same uncontrollable smile, in the faces of a Nigerian earth mama, a thin-lipped Scottish granny and a pale, correct Japanese businessman as they wheeled their

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-63430014829910588012011-12-24T12:26:00.004Z2011-12-24T15:35:30.838Z

"Retail history is expected to be made in the UK today with analysts predicting the busiest shopping day ever recorded. Visa Europe believes that the nation's shoppers will use its cards to spend over £1 million a minute, nearly £18,000 per second - totalling £1.5 billion across the day.""Visa predicts that the busiest shopping hour of the year will be on Christmas Eve between noon and 1pm, in a

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-28093002406634517482011-12-18T14:33:00.003Z2011-12-18T15:55:18.848Z

I vaguely remember a topic of dissertation I was given in high school. The topic stated something like "Man exists only among other men", please expend. It was the first dissertation topic we were given in philosophy and we'd been allowed to do it at home. I was struck by the fact that a mere few words (man exists only among other men) could inspire so many thoughts in me... the rush of arguments

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-65760419340956761822011-12-17T18:46:00.003Z2011-12-17T19:01:19.455Z

How hard it is to let go... So hard. Yet, it must be done to free oneself from all the ghosts accumulated along the way throughout one's existence.I heard the thought that there was beauty in ruins, because ruins give way to something new or renewed, and for anything to improve - for anything to change - the old must be allowed to lay in ruins for more to be built upon it. There is beauty in

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-66307327795622469022011-12-15T18:55:00.006Z2011-12-16T08:20:54.048Z

I never learned to show weakness in front of others, except for my mother, who taught me from a young age never to expect sympathy from others for some reason that probably stemmed from her own experiences in life.The defining moment probably came while I was being bullied at school as a child. After over a year of keeping it a secret to my mother, I finally cracked and told her what was

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-70529141666141928542011-12-13T21:14:00.002Z2011-12-13T21:25:45.659Z

This feeling... of being trapped. it came back to the fore recently after meeting with a friend, who was adamant we should 'run away' for a few days in the countryside not just to recharge batteries, but also in search for inspiration. We made plans, it sounded easy and straightforward enough. We were going to book places on a boat and after an overnight journey by sea we'd get where we intended

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-63306069752397113032011-12-11T21:54:00.005Z2011-12-12T07:21:15.098Z

Some day, some night,There was you, there was I,And then it all went dark.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-53388301615701702902011-12-03T10:48:00.003Z2011-12-03T12:15:59.240Z

My very first blog entry was almost like a catalyst for things to come. It started with a feeling of oppression followed by that of release, or liberation within the mind when suddenly everything I saw, heard, or read rung false. At the time I thought I 'got' it, but I really didn't.Whatever stage I've reached, it feels by far more strenuous, dangerous and unavoidable. The path of deep

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-35558344625472318812011-12-02T10:58:00.002Z2011-12-02T11:46:17.559Z

There is a certain sense of pointless arrogance in wanting so hard to reject the world based on selective perception, or placing extra focus on one side of the coin rather than considering both sides. Sure, most things to me will never make sense, and I know most days I will continue to feel as though I'm living in a giant circus, but I have to shift my focus away from that. Three years on and

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-40467048970436274472011-11-19T12:59:00.005Z2011-11-19T23:25:06.212Z

There I was, thinking I knew you, but when the wind blew over the water the reflection I thought was mine faltered.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-31382711482417559292011-11-13T14:20:00.002Z2011-11-13T14:26:30.362Z

As I train myself to let go and remain neutral inside, I find the distance between me and people around me only growing further. But it's not people, it's me. Every single person I know seems to have hobbies, things they like to do, favourites, dreams, desires that are often widely found among people, making it easier, in a way, for them to bond with one another. These hobbies, favourite things,

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-71105451527600276062011-11-01T18:20:00.004Z2011-11-02T08:05:02.751Z

No more poetry to be written, no more sweet-sounding words, hollow enemies of the mind. What is the mind anyway but part of the same prison Ego has constructed for us?It's all an illusion. It may feel real, but it is not. Everything is caught up in a maze of neurons and sensors inside the brain while the rest of the body constitutes the bulk of the machinery to keep the whole going. Same goes for

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-81077196951091624142011-10-31T19:00:00.003Z2011-10-31T19:36:15.809Z

Sitting in the dark, with only the light of a flickering candle to pierce the darkness... but there is no light within, only obscurity.I feel absolutely empty, and not even words sound accurate enough anymore. Like a metronome, I still carry my self from place to place, I smile when prompted, I speak up when asked a question... but death is what I feel inside. Complete and utter emptiness

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-61994621677875635182011-10-23T12:55:00.001+01:002011-10-23T12:59:29.572+01:00

I've been thinking about the notion of 'users', as in people who use others constantly for their own benefit often without even realising it, and how much a world's ethics based on greed and self-interest has been driving that trend.It would be foolish to think that the way our world's ethics have developed isn't directly having an impact on the very way people turn out to be in life. More and

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-51935409936122338702011-08-16T18:09:00.000+01:002011-08-16T18:10:30.219+01:00

Sites like Facebook are a good way to gather some sort of personal statistics based on the number of people you actually know on there. You can also keep track of predictions, such as the one made by my philosophy teacher when I was 18 and about to leave high school. After spending a year teaching us the basics of thinking in depth using the logical side of our brains, the philosophy teacher

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-28150827104457325422011-06-22T18:39:00.002+01:002011-06-27T08:34:48.112+01:00

What is success?The world is full of positive definitions built around that one word. 'Success, succeeding, successful'... They have the same term in French, borrowed from English, "succès", even though the French have their own word for it, like "réussite".Ask anyone around you, they'll all tell you the same thing: success is good. It means you're doing something right... right?Or is it?If

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-38683528267296594362011-06-15T22:36:00.003+01:002011-06-15T22:54:18.841+01:00

Complainte du petit cheval blancLe petit cheval dans le mauvais temps, qu'il avait donc du courage !C'était un petit cheval blanc, tous derrière et lui devant.Il n'y avait jamais de beau temps dans ce pauvre paysage.Il n'y avait jamais de printemps, ni derrière ni devant.Mais toujours il était content, menant les gars du village,A travers la pluie noire des champs, tous derrière et lui devant.Sa

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-79633624157333692112011-05-17T23:15:00.002+01:002011-05-17T23:25:56.828+01:00

Today one of my worst nightmares kind of materialised - that of entering a room full of black ties and snotty strangers and having to interact with them as though I was the most social person in the world. Only I can know how awkward I felt as I tried so hard to hide it from my face and posture… Body language says a lot, you see, and it can betray your best endeavours.After shaking hands a few

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-89782137234882568042011-04-27T21:27:00.003+01:002011-04-27T21:37:16.516+01:00

Stranger things have happened...I don't seem able to stop thinking about meaning. In fact, it seems I just cannot stop thinking about the 'hows' and the 'whys' of this world. The questions keep dancing in my head, and if they ever grow subdued, it is only to come back to haunt me even more.Because I crave understanding of all things, my imaginative side came up with all sorts of theories and

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-25022738738744358802011-04-25T19:42:00.002+01:002011-04-25T19:55:42.444+01:00

We, humans, never run out of meanings. We are champions at making up meanings and purposes.There is no meaning to anything unless we ourselves attach it to something, and that’s exactly why we spend our lives drifting according to nature, only we make our surroundings more interesting to pass the time till the grave. We get born without having a say on the matter, people just spawn us one

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-45776282978846405032011-03-22T22:23:00.002Z2011-03-22T22:31:18.825Z

In the morning of lightNever a word, but a whisper,And I wait, for a fight,For the right one in, the fair, No fool, the mindless whimOf liars and cheats, of doom,For peace we dreamed so soonDestroyed for the rise of grim Nightmares, and darkness shimmersIn the false light of hopeIn the eyes of the damned,And the righteous dreamers. All for one, none for all,The painful howling of gloom.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-77619265145574960962011-03-09T11:00:00.002Z2011-03-09T11:22:35.692Z

So the whole of the middle east region is caught in the grip of ‘revolutions’… talks of rebels trying to bring down their current governments or dictators are all over the news, but it has become most impossible to discern true facts from propaganda. There was that long video being shown on Sky News last night showing rebels in Libya running in the street screaming when suddenly firearms are

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-70678859938460855462011-02-27T09:21:00.002Z2011-02-27T09:29:07.626Z

This morning I was woken up early by a bright ray of sunshine seeping through the window to caress my sleeping face. I propped myself up onto my elbows and glanced up at the pure, diluted blue skies, and felt the cool breeze wrap itself around me, waking me up fully at once.Uncertainty... the basis of life? Perhaps it is, and it is why human ingenuity always strives so much to make things as

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-25838522373868448872011-02-03T17:05:00.002Z2011-02-03T17:53:21.066Z

This morning Voltaire came to mind and I wasn't sure why. The reason he came to mind was because I started dwelling on the meaning of illegitimacy in literature (out of wedlock or bastard children as protagonists) and that reminded me of what an old teacher in literature class had once said - that often in literature, a character who happened to be an illegitimate child was a symbol that the

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-40810055279038249182011-01-18T16:49:00.005Z2011-01-18T17:09:16.378Z

In moments of quiet contemplation, I remember verses of another life. The very ones that awakened not just my senses, but thoughts from deep within, and emotions - raw and untamed, intense. A teacher of mine once said to me that reading Rimbaud could have that effect. He broke all the rules and made the Word his own. To me, he remains forever l'enfant terrible of French poetry in his search for

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-53921975880509373802011-01-11T15:57:00.001Z2011-01-11T16:02:18.053Z

It’s always hard to tell when or why it happens… It seems even harder to describe it, but a ‘temps-mort’ is what it is, really: when time seems to have stopped while at the same time it keeps rushing forth… but for you, your person, your own perception, it no longer does. To you, Time has died, somehow.I can look around me all I want, nothing makes sense. I suppose the mind is a good illusionist…

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-36757408274956795342011-01-05T19:06:00.001Z2011-01-05T19:10:10.485Z

T H EE N D

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-28790317321293067842010-11-21T12:12:00.003Z2010-11-21T14:25:31.353Z

There is man, there is woman, There is spring, there is winter, There is light, there is darkness, There is evil, and there is good.Everything in this world seems to rest on a balance of perfect opposites. I would go so far as to venture that nothing can actually exist without its complete opposite existing as well.So what does that tell us? I'll tell you what it shows us, shall I? It

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-42926659573959216342010-10-17T19:24:00.000+01:002010-10-17T19:26:07.775+01:00

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-28010544342669452052010-08-07T09:07:00.002+01:002010-08-07T09:21:58.924+01:00

I don't know anything anymore. I don't think I ever knew anything in the end.Everything has again taken the colour of stupid these days. In my reality, I still need to carry on 'as normal'... People smile at me and I smile back at them. Inside I'm bleeding, but I know they can never see it - I am too good a mask wearer in reality.I tell myself "It will pass. Yes, it has to... This emptiness

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-88651548340775619632010-08-06T12:40:00.003+01:002010-08-06T13:25:18.191+01:00

Some people say that passion is the greatest of all emotions. Some say it is the most valuable of all, others will say it is the core of all others and that many lack that core component. Being more passionate than every single person on this planet makes me wonder if all those who say these things have any idea what true passion really is about.Sure, you can look it up in a dictionary.Sure, you

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-63096615605443893712010-08-01T11:03:00.004+01:002010-08-04T19:04:02.312+01:00

University is such a waste of time in the end... It’s mindblowing. What is it but a mere process of going through specific motions - learning exactly what you are told to learn and apply that granted knowledge in a very specific manner and no other unless you want to be failed - to get a piece of paper at the end of it that is supposed to tell the world how 'clever' you are?...In a way, it does

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-65015957792634754012010-07-31T18:32:00.003+01:002010-07-31T22:24:56.009+01:00

Once upon a time, there was a world full of contrasts and colors... Now it’s the same everywhere you go, or it soon will be.And don’t tell me it’s all for peace’s sake because that’s the most aberrant lie of all. It’s all for profit of some sort.Everything that the world is doing, even when it claims to be ‘helping’, is in the hope of getting something valuable in return.Nothing makes sense. Not

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-28481402696772882412010-07-30T19:46:00.002+01:002010-07-30T20:07:39.518+01:00

The problem with people of my weird kind is that we tend to see the light at the end of the tunnel from the start.. We see the greatest things in the distance, and because we are dazzled by it, we often forget to walk the path leading to that light. In my case, I get frightened that I’ll make a wrong move and the light I always see at the end will vanish from sight. And so it is that I dither at

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-13068215468389611152010-07-28T06:13:00.004+01:002010-07-28T07:11:39.935+01:00

I feel incredibly sad and peaceful at the same time - is this normal?But... Normality is just a blanket word to describe a category of people that happens to be in the majority at any given time, really. Change the people in majority and the definition of what ‘normal’ means will also change. So while there must be such a thing as normality, it is but a mere subjective notion linked to whatever

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-55802461617749183012010-07-27T06:56:00.002+01:002010-07-27T07:05:31.071+01:00

How can every single person be wrong about me?I don’t know. It is as I said before: it’s not like I can detach part of me from myself to take a look at the way I am with people. On the other hand, there is no denying that the world is getting more rotten by the minute. Maybe what I’m witnessing in general is the gradual degeneration of people in their very nature and it makes me question whether

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-22419986308333211932010-07-25T05:20:00.004+01:002010-07-25T05:57:01.898+01:00

Things that we say sometimes we don't mean. I want to be able to only express what I mean absolutely, but I get struck by the variants of my self. Each will take turn, it seems, to stress on a certain angle or perspective, or flawed perception at a time... I is not one, but so many faces at once.I just wish I could keep only the ones that make sense, and rid myself of all the others.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-52631959718191521462010-07-22T08:17:00.002+01:002010-07-22T08:28:14.265+01:00

Maybe the problem is that I saw and understood too much, too soon. It makes me feel as though I am 98 in my head... I do feel very old in my heart. Maybe I should have learned to pace myself... as though that were ever an option!Oh, to be free, even for a moment... I wonder when the shift occurred in my head - when I suddenly began not to care about society’s expectations and contradicting rules

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-69140417132168219342010-07-21T15:10:00.003+01:002010-07-21T15:27:41.724+01:00

The inherent unfairness of life... I still don’t understand how there can even be one person wishing harm on another. This is not a question of naivety on my part, it is purely based on my inability to fathom how one could ever hurt another. Some people say that when you suffer greatly in your childhood, it can lead you to display urges for revenge through wicked actions later in life, but I don’

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-89103883848733575712010-07-20T05:41:00.002+01:002010-07-20T06:07:05.095+01:00

Socially challenged as I am... I keep having to bite my tongue around people because if I don’t I’ll say something I’m not supposed to say or even think.We invented or were born with the ability to create many social faces for ourselves for a reason. Take the mask(s) down and you are as vulnerable as a newborn within a society. Take the mask(s) down and you end up hurting others’ feelings by

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-17951048585748400162010-07-18T08:55:00.003+01:002010-07-18T09:11:41.882+01:00

Truth really is like a bad smell, or a scar. Once you find it, it sticks to you like a rotten layer of skin, it slashed at your heart and leaves a mark forever. Once you know, you can no longer unlearn that knowledge, can you? The difficulty in searching for the truth isn’t the blind search itself, it is the question as to how one will cope with the burden of a truth uncovered.Knowing is based on

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-13281182101042223522010-07-16T06:49:00.003+01:002010-07-16T07:03:29.643+01:00

All these emotions in me... They are like a giant fireball. They could burn and destroy everything like wild fire if unrestrained. They really could... The only way I can ever let them out is by channeling them into stories... They can never be freed in real life because my conclusion is that people do not have what it takes to cope with pure, unrestrained passion in reality. Only I. I am one of

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-39540944622490540482010-07-15T08:13:00.004+01:002010-07-15T18:50:17.300+01:00

Here stands a mirror that reflects all that was, is and will come to be.Here is a mirror of all reflections, but at a closer look, the perfected images we see waver, and a distorted view of the world remains. Where we stop, others go on. It is as it should be.Things happen, things break. I had much time on my hands. I looked at the pile of books waiting to be read in a corner, collecting dust on

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-70751321470627396062010-07-14T17:41:00.004+01:002010-07-14T18:22:57.340+01:00

Sometimes, when everything in life seems to go wrong, the only way back up again is to let yourself fall further. I feel as though I am letting Life punch me right, left and centre like a rag doll; I let it smother me whole, hoping that I can survive its blows - because if I do survive then one day it will have to let go of me. And let me be.Perhaps if the reality of a majority happens to be

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-6168817172795659382010-07-13T20:01:00.003+01:002010-07-13T22:13:48.296+01:00

Growing up, I first wanted to be a vet, because I thought I loved animals. They were so cute and fluffy, you know, you just had to love' em. I used to go down to the local library and I'd sit at one of the tables in the adult section with the biggest books I could find on nature and wildlife. I remember feeling quite smug looking around me at all these serious-looking adults, and I was an eight

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-38790886699388500082010-07-13T07:23:00.002+01:002010-07-13T07:56:07.966+01:00

I am possessed by my own memories. I cannot ever let go of them because if I did I would be faced with the giant void my present is. If I let go of the past, then there is nothing before me. I want to say that it is all my fault, all my own doing, but I have those diaries, and they show a pattern.They show a pattern and the only way back to retrieve all the pieces of I.What I actually fail to

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-11342166532868644142010-07-09T05:56:00.002+01:002010-07-09T06:01:08.394+01:00

The fact that we have the ability to think and be conscious of our own selves means that life is often hard to bear. Being aware of reality, of the impassive reality of death itself, and the atrophy of natural instincts in favour of logical thought means that the main greatest coping mechanism of the human species rests on imagination. Yes, that’s right, imagination. The power to let the mind

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-41839587859239808682010-07-07T06:48:00.004+01:002010-07-07T07:14:35.361+01:00

I see reason, or my capacity to dwell on specific issues, as a stubborn, but shrewd, little creature living within my brain, while imagination is that wild bird spreading its wings across the sun. Everytime I look up I can see its shadow, a burst of colours, but I’m blinded by the light and can never really catch up with it. All that I do manage to grasp is a handful of feathers at a time.Reason,

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-78674781692625609392010-07-06T08:54:00.006+01:002010-07-06T09:47:36.995+01:00

In this realm - ‘real’ life or physical realm - all that happens, all that is thought, said or done belongs to a same spectrum which is bound by limits. One end of that spectrum is called gravity, governing all living forms as we know them, the opposite end is death or mortality. Thus we have:Secondary spectrums are derived from the core one and include all that is done, thought or experienced.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-19389816156968180232010-07-03T10:21:00.003+01:002010-07-03T10:41:57.366+01:00

I’m beginning to think that there is such a thing as being too human in this life. Too high a degree of sensitivity and empathy leads to a slow breaking of the heart within. The rest is destroyed by people like vultures feasting on your soon-to-be empty shell of a body. It is when by some strange mutation you were born lacking the feral survival instincts your peers still possess and let

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-50571728261658352042010-06-25T07:35:00.002+01:002010-06-25T07:46:55.814+01:00

I thought everything I felt was real, but everything I felt was an illusion, because everything I thought was based on delusions.“Hi, I would like to buy myself a life so I can deal with the world, please.”“Sure, madam. We have different models you can choose from, take your pick.”“Right... I think I’ll get the one that knows what they’re doing and are very good at dealing with stupid people.”“

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-2534074561073599932010-06-24T16:55:00.002+01:002010-06-24T17:26:52.662+01:00

A flurry of thoughts have been twirling in my head for a while, more intensely than usual.And suddenly it dawned on me - finally. At long last.I am untamed.I was never tamed by society, no matter how hard the latter tried. Do you have any idea how liberating this simple word feels? Something within me, most likely my own mind, never allowed the process to complete itself. I went through all the

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-20009256587171380982010-06-23T10:35:00.001+01:002010-06-23T10:40:23.225+01:00

Searching for a place to own,In between cradle and tombstone,Always looking, never seeingThat pain is a living.In the honeysuckle’s snareI chose the vine to form a lair,Against the shack of a prisonWith walls of gold and crimson.Note to self: Must stop chasing ghosts.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-3337742378093121652010-06-22T16:34:00.002+01:002010-06-22T16:54:40.623+01:00

It's sunny and warm outside, but I've been stuck indoors mainly because the landlord is an insane old man who said he wanted access to the garden to repair the roof when really he actually wanted to get inside the flat to snoop around. I should know, I was there - except he didn't have a clue.I sat on the kitchen floor and watched him try and push the door open... There was no way he could open

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-19916065862455103152010-06-22T07:03:00.002+01:002010-06-22T07:13:54.350+01:00

It’s all about the system now, and it’s increasingly difficult to cheat it. Everything about you is checked and double checked, and it’s only going to get worse. The chances of slipping through society’s net are getting slimmer by the day. Soon, there will be nowhere to hide. Everyone will be forced to abide by the same destructive rules under a totalitarian system we’ll just have to keep calling

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-47272998663194209892010-06-19T21:16:00.002+01:002010-06-19T21:38:22.136+01:00

One by one, they stumble down; into a great lake of fire they split, like a thousand funfairs’ lights. And when the night is slain, and morning but a streak of blood on the sky’s bruised cheek, there will be no more stars to shoot. Often I feel like shoving my hand inside my skull to take out the part that was rotten by the system and its conditioning, and its hurt... I feel as though doing that

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-23643954248594216922010-06-14T21:28:00.003+01:002010-06-14T21:34:28.559+01:00

If you don't know what I'm hinting at then you probably need to think about society's effect(s) on you much more than even I do.And I'm tired. Nobody reads this blog anyway.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-36782135570907413082010-06-12T12:33:00.002+01:002010-06-12T13:12:10.592+01:00

I've had a very strange year so far... If I were to give it a title, it would have to be something along the lines of "The Year of The Family".I've never really known or understood, or even pondered on the notion of family. My family unit was always outside the box. For instance, I've never known my father, don't even know what he looks like, and while growing up family to me meant my mother. Her

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-79080301325194441282010-06-11T15:03:00.003+01:002010-06-11T15:14:13.182+01:00

Where did the years go?...My childhood... It was, truly, another life. If I’d known... If I’d known it was never going to last... If I’d known my whole life would be shattered by the time I hit 17... If I’d known... I would have appreciated my time then.But I was convinced it would never change! I was certain that my boring, safe routine would last forever, somehow... Now all that I have left are

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-80171235253376558982010-06-10T18:19:00.002+01:002010-06-10T18:37:29.500+01:00

Everything has taken the colour of stupid these days.It's miserable and cold outside. My hands are freezing. My head is spinning with pointless thoughts... No, wait, I'm lying. These thoughts aren't pointless at all, they are trapped.I'm growing ever so tired of expressing thoughts through words that have no bearing on the reality I am chained to. How can you bear it? Is there some sort of switch

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-26362562851537449412010-06-07T14:33:00.002+01:002010-06-07T14:40:51.449+01:00

Oh, the bore of looking for jobs... I forgot how boring and wrong it felt. I mean, not looking for a job in itself, but the process that has been put in place that resembles more baring it all in front of strangers (they apparently have a right to know everything about you, but you don’t about them) while selling yourself to them. I’m having a hard time finding a difference between prostitution

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-70294151368381281562010-05-08T22:09:00.003+01:002010-05-08T22:17:24.868+01:00

So it's a hung parliament, huh?You know what’s really funny about it all? It is the fact that news agencies have to spend ages trying to explain what it means to people. Can it get any more ludicrous? The UK has a system so unnecessarily complex that most of its own people don’t understand how it actually works - or what it means. And they still call it a democracy? Personally, if it hadn’t been

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-25048478807357431502010-05-06T00:21:00.004+01:002010-05-08T22:37:42.731+01:00

That heavy load of clutter called thoughts won’t shift... My head is in a terrible fog right now. Is there no end to that feeling of intense confusion?... I crave a mere moment of clarity that never seems to come my way. Everything is always like an endless whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and I’m exhausted.I guess it was good that today happened to be a busy day. I had to leave the house early for

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-4932835710149125772010-02-25T11:33:00.004Z2010-02-25T12:39:41.954Z

Language is one of the biggest means of influence on the mind... These days, it’s all about manipulating terms like ‘equality, justice, minority, racism...’ Oh, and ‘terrorism.’This is roughly how it works: first you impose a new term or notion, perhaps a mere innocuous-sounding word... Like equality. Isn’t that a lovely word, a word full of right-sounding ideals and direction? Isn’t that

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-35934299821553976442010-01-07T12:18:00.005Z2010-01-07T12:41:55.115Z

It’s a picture perfect of winter outside... The sky has cleared up a bit since yesterday - that’s the one good thing about this island: clouds drift away as swiftly as they appear - and the wintry sun is a dim golden glow on the snow.The naked trees have a thin layer of whiteness spread along their twisted limbs and the evergreen shrubs are half-immersed in a blanket of snow. Birds are fluttering

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-7560760894435750912009-12-15T23:03:00.005Z2009-12-15T23:18:12.559Z

I was watching a heart wrenching documentary on TV earlier on the state of dementia care homes in Britain... These poor people being treated like bothersome objects by staff that couldn’t care less, or so disheartened and bored that they no longer cared to show the pensioners any trace - not one ounce - of compassion, let alone to treat them with dignity... So many ancient faces, their faces

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-43841340646612707932009-12-06T15:54:00.004Z2009-12-06T16:28:37.290Z

People come up with great far-fetched stories, like the Xmen, Batman, Superman and Spiderman, and they all have something in common: they are the good guys battling the evils of the world. They also share a common link: something happened that granted them superpowers, whether it is from a spider’s bite, a nuclear incident, or genetic mutations.In the realm of imagination, there is no limit as to

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-55912109360916694752009-11-26T18:43:00.002Z2009-11-26T18:55:25.545Z

I don’t think the human mind is ever easily controlled, but it is very easy to influence.Influence works better than straightforward control anyway, and the more pervasive the influence, the better. At some point down the line, it becomes almost impossible to find the source of any one influence gripping the human mind. It’s already everywhere, in what we nonchalantly call the ‘mainstream’.See,

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-73589315570606310242009-11-18T21:19:00.007Z2009-11-18T21:55:55.054Z

I can’t believe what I’ve just heard on the news... I’m so shell-shocked and angered I almost wish I hadn’t moved from my bed to walk to the living room and switch the TV on. It was Channel 4 news and some guy was talking in front of a projected image of a graph about the latest UN recommendations from that rotten Copenhagen meeting. My mouth opened in utter surprise, perhaps it was dismay, as I

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-5249885984513265812009-11-17T10:25:00.011Z2009-11-17T11:24:29.345Z

I have a test this week in Ethics, which is a poor excuse for a module, if you ask me ( it only lasted 4 weeks). We’re spoon-fed half-baked theories we must accept as moral because it is the PC thing to do and then we have to answer stupid questions to show how well we can play the PC game.It’s a heavy week in terms of assignments and tests, but I still found the time to read a whole little book

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-54521745975263716072009-11-13T08:14:00.010Z2009-11-13T08:52:36.999Z

Looks like it’s set to rain all day... The cover of grey clouds is weighing on the city.I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore when I stumble across stuff on the internet. Like, I don’t know, learning that rice has been genetically modified with human genes (2007 Daily Mail article). It’s not like I’d never heard of GM food, is it?... I just never imagined they would go so far as adding HUMAN

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-50160136420872844672009-11-11T10:55:00.005Z2009-11-11T11:18:37.356Z

Things have to get worse before they get better... It’s hard to see how much worse things can get on all levels. We’ve got to the stage where we no longer have any idea what it is we put in our mouth, but we carry on mindlessly courtesy of adaptation and, well, conditioning.Take my case, for instance. I was born when supermarket giants were already the norm, just as banks, credit cards and the

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-11906956440526490962009-10-17T14:46:00.007+01:002009-10-17T15:18:51.852+01:00

I’m amazed at one thing: how up to speed I am with current events, these days. Since the TV’s reception is bad, I’ve almost completely given up on watching any programme at all, but every time I sit in the living room to eat my meals, I switch on the news channel. That gives me a sum-up of what is ‘going on’ on the day, though of course I’m now amused at the fact that only about 5 things seem to

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-51419920359113746802009-09-29T09:38:00.003+01:002009-09-29T09:44:49.712+01:00

I like to imagine sometimes that whatever bad happens, there must be a bigger picture somewhere, and there must be something good to draw out of it. I even like to think of hardship as a helpful tool to grow as a person, or that it is one of life’s tests... That there is a reason behind everything that happens, if only we can recognise what it is, which means taking the time to understand every

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-25305636702588839412009-09-17T11:02:00.008+01:002009-09-17T12:47:16.434+01:00

Yesterday I listened to Mozart all day. Today is Vivaldi’s turn. After that, I don’t know, because my classical playlist is on the poor side, I have to say. I might go down the library at some point and simply rent a few random CDs to add to the tiny collection of music I have in the genre.Yeah... I no longer trust mainstream music, not to the point of feeling paranoid about it, but I’m really

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-62069835205070616782009-09-15T10:11:00.009+01:002009-09-15T10:32:02.467+01:00

... Only convenient versions of it.Can anything we say or write fit with such verbs as ‘to be’? To be, is, was, will be... The verb alludes to certainties or facts. I am me, I am a girl, I am a person, I am a grown-up... The sky is blue, the clouds are white, the house is big, the dog is barking, the cat is jumping, the weather is foul, etc... I wonder if all these shouldn’t in fact be replaced

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-91685491344644212402009-09-13T17:46:00.000+01:002009-09-13T17:47:09.734+01:00

See that light,At the end that flies,Swells the heart and sighs,Longings are the plight.Steps in the doorwayLead to marble skiesStretching all the wayTo hearts and sobbing eyes.See that light,At the end that flies,Steps in the doorwayLead to the freewayOf gloom, of passions doomed,Whispers of the heartThe mind which has fathomedIs blind, is blind to depart!The steps that crackAlong the black

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-38306775587011580262009-09-13T17:22:00.003+01:002009-09-13T17:46:28.436+01:00

I haven't written anything for a while, now. Sometimes I feel like thoughts in my head just keep repeating themselves over and over again and I don't see the point in rehashing the same old things. It doesn't make those thoughts any less relevant or perhaps even true, but it shows me that I lack answers, and still more questions in my head arise. It's tiring at times.So I had a random read at my

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-58655510292385759492009-07-30T15:45:00.004+01:002009-07-30T16:37:18.510+01:00

Philosophers like to question the notion of good and evil. They ask: but what is good, and what is bad? Are the two mere subjective notions whose meaning varies from one individual to another; from one society to another? Do they exist independently from us, men who possess the faculty to reason, or do they exist because we do? To have a word alone that describes a notion suggests that man came

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-22529134045863429172009-07-23T13:26:00.003+01:002009-07-23T13:48:57.360+01:00

I managed to wake shortly after 5am. The sky is a steel blue, the air fresh and eerily quiet for now. I fed the cat, and then rested my thoughts on strange dreams I’ve been having... Such dreams are usually vivid enough for me to remember pieces of them.The first one was two nights ago, and in that dream I was back in our old flat. You’d think that after all this time away, my memory of the place

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-50613097443494652982009-06-18T20:26:00.004+01:002009-06-19T09:07:10.156+01:00

Why is it all always about money? When did it become the only thing worth going after in life? Was it always like that? Are we doomed to always long for things that are empty and meaningless in themselves?Money is the evil of the world. It symbolizes all that is rotten and corrupt, but why doesn’t it seem to bother anyone but me?I don’t want to crave it, I don’t want to lead my life with the sole

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-80137069920008586642009-05-24T13:14:00.002+01:002009-05-24T13:25:21.115+01:00

Over the last few months, I realized that there were things, even the silliest things, about society that I liked. This seems to have re-enforced the belief I have in humanity as a whole. Sure, a majority will always be corrupt to an extent and easily swayed, but there are others out there trying more than I could ever try. The ‘doers’ of this world aren’t all bad. Some have ideals close to mine,

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-2846920238456258032009-05-16T20:17:00.004+01:002009-05-24T13:14:19.388+01:00

Time flies.One moment you’re here doing this, the next you’re over there doing that. Everything becomes a memory in your own head, and while others might share the same sort of memory in time, it is never the exact same recollection. Each mind focuses on what marks them, and what marks an individual is always slightly different from what marks another. Everything we do now is a fleeting moment

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-66788224009567623872009-05-09T12:00:00.014+01:002009-05-09T14:30:44.283+01:00

Life is a playground. You build sand castles and some get destroyed or they crumble on their own. That’s just the way it is because sand is weak and easily stumped on. A sprinkle of water can melt it down to a puddle. What do you do when your little sand castles melt down for one reason or other? You build another one, and another, and another... because that’s all life is about for the living.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-48067688616638124472009-05-07T16:32:00.003+01:002009-05-07T16:36:36.081+01:00

05/05/09They say you should enjoy life, take every moment as it comes along, because we are alive today, and we should be thankful for that miraculous gift.And I see the trees, the flowers, the sky and its glaring golden eye piercing layers of whiteness, and I feel quite very small and insignificant. I see Time passing, I see the billions rushing here and there, by chance or following a

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-1751196153863512512009-05-07T13:16:00.004+01:002009-05-07T14:39:21.486+01:00

I woke early today. I used to be able to wake up before dawn, but now I have to drag myself out of bed, and not even the occasional ray of sunshine seems to help.So... I opened my eyes and was plagued with random thoughts and memories. I walked to the bathroom to find a fox sitting in the garden. I thought that was odd, but then nothing really surprises me anymore. I made myself some coffee, the

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-3719752573162689972009-05-05T19:13:00.002+01:002009-05-07T13:04:24.543+01:00

Since the door to the back garden has become a no-go area, I’ve had to find another way to get into that bloody garden. The mini swamp right outside the door means that a swarm of wasps is forever buzzing around.Not to be deterred, I squeezed through the small bathroom window and managed to get into the garden. I went to the far end to have a closer look at that single bright red poppy that

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-90122705392481288092009-04-28T20:36:00.001+01:002009-04-28T20:39:10.848+01:00

More and more, I feel not just like a drifter, but a ghost made of flesh and blood, wandering the Earth at random, never knowing where the next step will take me. I wonder what having friends ought to feel like, and then I wonder what the word itself means in reality. What is friendship but the safe illusion granted to lessen the weight of solitude, which in itself exists in every single one of

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-66581596557223885372009-04-23T18:57:00.003+01:002009-05-07T13:15:15.355+01:00

I stepped outside this cave of a place I live in and squinted under the glare of the sun. The glare of the sun. That is such a pretty, yet common way to allude to the sun’s overwhelming light... I like it very much. So, I went out, and my steps led me nowhere, for they had nowhere to lead me to in the first place: no pretty spot, or small park in which to wander about around here. Only streets,

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-20705106647379351892009-04-22T13:55:00.004+01:002009-05-10T13:47:37.592+01:00

I feel that sense of sorrow, that hazy pang of wistful appreciation of what once was which has now passed, never to be again.The image of a trapped animal in a golden cage haunts me because it represents exactly the way I feel most of the time. The more I fight against the irons bars, the smaller the cage seems to get, hindering my every move until I can no longer do as much as breathe. They say

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-84343450685219764222009-04-16T22:16:00.002+01:002009-04-16T22:19:20.770+01:00

"But my depression is my inability so far to process too deep a sense or feel of others’ pain and what I can see is going wrong around me. Unless I can find a way or ways to reconcile every discovery I make for myself with the ability to cope or shoulder the weight of such discoveries, I will not make it very far and will end up consumed by helplessness."I wrote this in the very post I ever

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-63219627754289387162009-04-06T13:36:00.001+01:002009-04-06T13:39:29.235+01:00

What am I in this life, this whole world, but one pair of eyes to witness what lies before me?My person in itself means very little, and in essence I am equal or of no more importance than any other person. My mind, on the other hand, is the wild card that can transform my own experience of life into something meaningful at least for my self. Everything else is superfluous. Remove the mind from

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-820156131133917458.post-59624143596193437912009-04-01T13:36:00.000+01:002009-04-01T13:37:15.574+01:00

There is no truth out there, only convenient versions of it.

Aliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330821596450834173noreply@blogger.com1