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It is 1:32 am, Friday 10 [April/09]


A fantastic rambling of cathartic nature is about to begin. There is stillness around me except for a noisy fan and an hungry stomach. Point is, there is no stillness inside of me. No stillness whatsoever. There is this slight rumbling in the far away distance of my mind which vibrations reach the front of my head. I cannot escape it today. To top it all, an invisible weight hangs and pulls forth from the edge of the front of my head. Yes, the front of my head and my eyes find themselves disturbed and my stomach is tense. When I breath I feel my mind turn liquid and hear its desire to go away from my body, to reach into the sky, and crash in some unknown place. I think of stars and the galaxies of outer space and wonder about the tranquility there and also about the chaos. There is much going on in the world and inside of my mind, and even in the pixels on this screen, there is something going on, which I don't know but may, in a bizarre and conveniently tangential way, have the answer to a question I haven't build but that is there roaming my mind, like a prideful insect that wants to be heard, acknowledged, and, above all, respected. A shapeshifting question fuses with the sea of words that haven't exactly reached the front of my head, or mind. It is there, slowly acquiring the liquid nature of my mind, nonetheless. Maybe it arrived already, but I don't feel it yet. There is more breathing, more tension in the stomach; I want it to go away without giving it its satisfaction. After all, what is and where is, my satisfaction? I can never have it, so I quit looking for it. Long ago I had plunged my self into the fiery blackness of hardship and fused with it and now we seem to be doing fairly well. It is a part of me already. It is like this strange tension behind my belly. I can live with it and I can also live with this liquid mind, which have been really evaporating all along. From the beginning I've been intending to express the utmost reflection of my state in words. Incoherent connections of words may be going through a curious reader in the future, probably with a slightly perplex expression on his mind for all the weird things he is processing. His mind would maybe still try to picture what is this liquid mind concept on his or her subconscious. [...] I keep walking with my fingers in this portal to my mind, which is this keyboard. My gateway to my getaway perhaps? I breathe again, eyes building up pressure. Perhaps I'm succeeding in a semi conscious agenda. My ear itches, I scratched it, I think of dreams. Dreams and Ideals, and what do I have? I'm unsatisfied with life, I cannot denied that. Little or no answers at all, make this life seem like a desert in the middle of no-place. A supreme being, don't make me laugh? There is nothing in nor out, I am floating in mid space. A thought crossed my mind like an extremely weak, swift, and dying current of air. It escaped me and I will not chase it. I keep going on which is what I always do, only with myself, which is what I always have. Oh, and walking or floating with my dissatisfaction by my hand, traveling together in the endless space of time and looking at things without a care for meaning at this current moment. There is blankness pushing its way trough, I will let it... and at one instant of the near future, I well let you see this.

It is 1:56 am, and I'm here.

EDIT: This was written that long ago without an audience in mind. I took out a sentence that might make it more 'audience oriented'.
 
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