52 posts shown.
Walter Baker2 said:A woman isn't going to win at football, so why are you guys even arguing about it?
Walter Baker2 said:the winner gets a prize
Drew Ross2 said:Chris Grant3, just drop the prediction here. You don't even have to explain your reasoning if you're not feeling up to it. 😁
ironrider11 said:If slipping back into "anger mode" is actually easy, doesn't that just mean the question you asked hasn't been answered at all? It’s like the answer was just pushed onto a waiting list—waiting for the right timing, the right skill, or even just the chance to finally settle it once and for all. If we're talking about settling things forever... look at guys like Joseph, Adolf, Benito, Mao, Paul, Idi, Judas, or Vlad the Impaler. No matter how much they differ, aren't they all basically no different from any other "next big villain" in history?...
What kind of system actually raises kids these days? Are we talking about living out of pure necessity, or just surviving a cycle that’s fundamentally broken, painful, and anxious? Even if you bury it deep under some heavy-duty self-defense mechanism, it's still there... Just existing like this. "Forgive me, God—if you even exist—because I'm essentially my own god now, deciding whether to forgive or not, but honestly, it feels like I just can't figure out how, what, or why I keep doing what I do..."
Kids who vape just to find some semblance of peace—never actually finding it—are basically high-speed machines for molding themselves into these weirdly specific caricatures. Depending on how much their inner demons of angst and frustration are acting up, they can turn into anything from petty little nuisances and self-absorbed jerks to full-blown ego-tripping sociopaths... or even top-tier, hardcore misanthropes. Those guys are actually impressive in a dark way; they dedicate their entire lives to devaluing the whole concept of human life and mortality. They make existing, or just playing around with existence, feel more vibrant or interesting. To them, true peace—that absolute Zen state—is just nothingness. It's a flatline on a heart monitor. If you aren't oscillating, vibrating, or resonating, you aren't really moving... so you exist. I guess. Maybe...
They’re just playing their parts. It’s all happening behind closed doors, totally invisible to anyone watching... acting like cold-blooded, brutal sadists. They’re basically guarding their own private Panopticon where they’re the prisoner, the warden, and the judge all at once. No mercy allowed from the God Pan. Forgive yourself? Forgive yourself for what? For being exactly who you are—or whatever else is driving those dark, hidden gears of the universe that feel so damn predetermined... right?
Forgiving your own sins? That’s a tall order. But trying to forgive someone else—anybody else, really—is even harder. It's always some other person, someone who isn't nearly as important as I am, and they just don't get it. They have no clue what they're doing, just like I don't. Yet, they still managed to pull some unforgivable, absolute bullshit on me... It takes constant effort, a massive drain on your energy, just to build and maintain this thick shell of frustration. Maybe it's easier that way, though. Less effort, less energy spent trying to hack through the thorns of life... especially if you're a vampire by nature, just built that way. You just keep pushing toward that one final goal: peace... death...
It’s packed with innocent kids, constantly interacting, providing each other this social platform where they feed into the same vicious cycle of nasty little habits... just hunting for some kind of soulmate to connect with on an intimate level. But through that whole predetermined loop, they end up knowing themselves less and less as time goes by. Not that it matters. In the end, regardless of anything—all is forgiven. And forgotten.
A person dies three times in their life. First, when innocence dies. Second, when naivety dies. Third, when the hollowed-out husk remains, aimlessly wandering while the world moves on around them. You’re born just as many times. Once when you emerge from nothingness as the pure essence of life, again after innocence is gone, and a third time once naivety has died. With every death and rebirth, you drift further from that thin line separating existence from nothingness, getting closer to the edge where everything fades back into the void. Maybe you get a little wiser along the way. Wiser about letting go. About forgiveness. Just criticism, just judgment, just being alive, just importance...
Maybe it's because they see how fleeting everything is, riding that lifelong illusion of self-preservation. Or maybe it's because dementia—or just the general psychophysical slide down the Gaussian curve—forces them back into that long-forgotten state of carefree, childish innocence. That margin between the light and the void might just be a single point, a revolving door of entry and exit, after one long, lucid dream fueled by a lifetime of war stories...
Frustration—and everything that drags behind it—is probably a massive overstatement. Just let go, man. Let go of the shadow self. Let go of everyone else, even if you're handing them a poisoned gift like a bunch of malicious kids playing games and creating their own reality...
Oh—my shadow—how I loved you.
Maria Johnson said:Look, she's gay. She's just some girl from Austria who's had way too much work done on her lips and chest and can barely wrap her head around basic American phonetics. She only needs dustypilot11; you shouldn't even try to slide in there.