#non studyblr

blue bottle was a staple during my NYC trip

Everything feels like a tumbling mess of word after word of sentence after sentence of paragraph after paragraph. Despite my frequent pseudo-philosophical musings, consistent pessimism, and perpetual overthinking (a tumbling mess of word after word sentence after sentence paragraph after paragraph the red thread that lines my wall sheds its skin and slithers away hissing. I cannot speak parseltongue so I simply watch… looking and gaping and looking as it unravels and leaves, gobbles and eats, all that comes its way), I don’t think I’ve had any existential crises thus far. The thought that we are simply pickled brains floating In vinegar in a mad scientist’s library does not scare me. Parallel worlds probably exist. Boo fucking hoo, we are still stuck in our reality, feeling the way we feel, our skin tickled by the winds, our foreheads greasy with sweat, our feet round and parched, our lips alone, our eyes seeing and unseeing. In the world that we exist, where rooms are small and countries are big, where ants are tiny-sized and airplanes change magnitude with distances, we exist the way we do. Musings of mind-control and parallel universes do not concern me. The only thing that can bring along change is revolution. But what does bother me is the credit we give ourselves. Credit evolution if you must or resort to the mad scientist theory. In so far as you don’t praise God, my argument stands. Nothing we own or do or achieve belongs to us. No achievements are ours. Everything that we have done and achieved, all the nights we have forced ourselves to stay awake, all the mornings we have spent on treadmills or farms, in fields or classrooms, on screens or on streets, do not belong to us. The fact is, our hardwork, our talent, our notions of merit, are nothing more than lottery earnings. We take credit for all that is arbitrary. We do not have any control over who we are and what we do. Not to say that the three fates carefully monitor our ECGs and decision times, but if everything we are is based off of natural disposition, if my achievements are a result of my hardwork and my hardwork a result of my genes, do I really have anything to be proud of? In A Social Contract, Rawls suggests that we must take an indifferent stance, we must shape our world on the presupposition that all arbitrary factors are held ceterius paribus. If I am nothing more than a raffle ticket… what is it that I boast of? What are we… other than the kisses we share and the things we think. Do they belong to us either? I’m tired.

TERFS/PEDOS/NSFW BLOGS/CISHETS DONT INTERACT

Further proof Tarantino has no self awareness...