“Football - an artful simulation of war.”
It is just a dream.
Yet,
a very terrifying one indeed.
You will die.
Memories gone.
All is temporary.
You know it.
You push it away.
You put bricks of delusion
and lies
on top it.
How else could you survive?
But,
could it be,
paradoxically,
coming back,
destroying the building that we built,
that we think is us,
lead to salvation?
Look at a child when it holds a flower
and vehemently laughs.
That magical appreciation for life is in us,
somewhere deep down,
still lurking.
How do you get there?
You will die.
You will die.
Your parents will die.
Your child.
You.
Your friends.
Your memories.
Your, your, your, your your your...
What is you?
What will die?
What is you?!?!
When you lose you,
for a moment,
it seems that underneath all the masks and demons,
is peace,
harmony,
love.
How come?
Who or what,
is destroying the peace and love?
How sick is it?
Forces of nature rules, right?
But it seems,
we can sever the ties with it,
even if for a moment,
that moment of harmony,
when those ties are no longer there,
that magical appreciation can come back,
even if for a moment.
You can only save yourself.
If you do,
others around will be saved as well.
But you won't.
Most likely...
“Prague, you are my love for life.”
it is just a game.
without any purpose.
it just is.
it is just happening.
just like music and dancing.
without any justice (it does not exist).
it just is.
we forgot to dance.
we forgot to sing.
we forgot to live.
death has won.
“Women and philosophy. That's all I need.”
“And then, suddenly, everything switched. Having a coffee, looking at these people, sea, mountains - a moment of intense bliss has come. Why? How? From where?Regardless, magical. As if something that is in me but not me appreciated the beauty of it all and talked to me in feelings so I would join it in appreciation.”
“
alone.
completely alone.
once again.
will i figure this out this time?
or is this the end?
i am not sure if i want to die.
not sure if i want to end it all now.
another city.
another bar.
another hangover.
france.
same different people.
same different questions.
same different answers.
will i figure this out?
will this pain result in something?
walking in the rain.
soaked.
lost.
writing this.
for what?
just another alcoholic asshole.
selfish.
unable to love.
pretending.
fuck you.
fuck me.
fuck all of this.
”
“View it all as a play, and you will be a joyful child again.”
“We create stories about ourselves e.g. I am a self-destructive romantic philosopher. And if we do not live up to it, and we are not perceived like that by others, we suffer. Solution? Change the story?”