Picture Me

A pattern of morality: whatever is held highest always has an opposing value which subjugates it, rendering it flawed and tainted with falseness.

I told her she makes me want to destroy parts of myself; that in order to create one must destroy.

I studied Morse code for 3 hrs today

Narcissus entrapped. Fruition of his belief Gilded by himself

Assuage my sadness with melancholy stars, so dim from afar.

Holding out for death.

I’m beginning to be tagged as the devil at work, because i don’t believe in souls, or bless you, or altruism, or god, or love, or equality.

As soon as I type "I", I regret it. A confused wreck. Emotionally uncontrollable. What am I? Certainly not human if being human has anything to do with relating to others. I can't even relate to myself.

Between personal discovery and scholarly understanding, playing among truths and wrestling with unknowns, calculated self worth infringing on justifiable self depravation and deprecation, a goal within view but lacking direction, the objectifying object,

What of survival? Biologically, relatively monotonous.

I feel like my live revolves around wasting time until I die.

http://compressedthought.tumblr.com/

At certain moments I feel completely inadequate, which amounts to believing that I am completely inadequate. During these moments whatever I have done in the past no longer retains the emotional presence it once had, but is instead replaced with a feeling of disapproval towards whatever action I had once taken. The previous attempts at living flounder under critique, its affects polarized and semi-permanent, lasting until the next moment that reverses the last.