Perpetual Nausea, exponentially more repugnant than Roquentin's.

For if there is an absolute truth, it is naught; but what is naught still remains a thought. Through its nothingness, naught becomes substantive, immediately giving birth to something. This something, however, is an intangible mass of thought. Thought alone, with strokes of its brush, paints a canvas of infinite extension, making the Sistine Chapel ( Read more... )

I cannot breathe enough air to fill my lungs.

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law."

I'm alone, but I'm not lonely -- I have kinetic energy.

The right words never come out and it isn't an inability on my behalf to express my feelings, it is an inability of my feelings to express themselves. My body has been functioning on auto-pilot for the past few years and I would like to reclaim my seat as captain, not co-pilot. Once again, here I am, at odds with myself, at odds with time, at odds ( Read more... )

Unbridled thoughts and actions, manifestations of a turbulent soul.

“I have never grown out of the infantile belief that the universe was made for me to suck.”

Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts!

There's no set-back that can set me back.