feltinpassing

[feltinpassing]

You can't force a flower open, it will break. You have to wait for it to bloom on its own, its own time, to see it's beauty.

[feltinpassing]

my erm, my leg and foot hurt, and, and no one really cares about me enough to take me to the hospital, to love me and soothe me, to make me trust again.

[feltinpassing]

the thing about Lebanon is that, they understand. That's the sad part. Because they went through it they know what it's like to leave the country, to want to run away from an economy that is tumbling, so, ironically, they share. Just like they dream they humanize you. When you look at them for help, even though you're not really lebanese. They understand. And they welcome you. And that's what's sad about it. It turns out that the people that go through your same pain will be your friends, and i doubt it makes any of you grow out of it, it will probably make it worse, and that's the curse of those that are hurt.

[feltinpassing]

Are we told to work ourselves to the bone so as to not think about death?

Or let us embrace it by other means: Making art that gives us and reminds us of meaning, which is what many movies and theater stories and productions tackle as an issue: Living for passion, love, relationships, fighting with your evil impulses? Etc. Richness makes you comfortable enough to think about death. Could it be that we are told to work for most days, even if, with our current technology, we can work way less (5 hours a week), and we even worked less during our hunter-gatherer eras (15 hours a week), to not fall into chaos? Yet now, we ended up working even harder, and the earth’s resources are finite, so we now want to explore outer space, or else we will end up capping our individual energy consumption.

[feltinpassing]

My favorite quotes from The Stranger by Albert Camus and other essays.

“I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.” “I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world.” “She was wearing a pair of my pajamas with the sleeves rolled up. When she laughed I wanted her again. A minute later she asked me if I loved her. I told her it didn’t mean anything but that I didn’t think so. She looked sad. But as we were fixing lunch, and for no apparent reason, she laughed in such a way that I kissed her.”

“I could tell, I made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t understand me, and he was sort of holding it against me. I felt the urge to reassure him that I was like everybody else, just like everybody else. But really there wasn’t much point, and I gave up the idea out of laziness.” “After another moment’s silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.” “The light outside seemed to be surging up against the window, seeping through, and smearing the faces of the people facing it with a coat of yellow oil.” “for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe.”

Summer in Algiers

“In any case, I learn not to separate these creatures bursting with violent energy from the sky where their desires whirl.” “The contrary of a civilized nation is a creative nation.” “This race, wholly cast into its present, lives without myths, without solace. It has put all its possessions on this earth and therefore remains without defense against death.” “Between [the summer] sky and these faces turned toward it, nothing on which to hang a mythology, a literature, an ethic, or a religion, but stones, flesh, stars, and those truths the hand can touch.” “being pure is recovering that spiritual home where one can feel the world’s relationship, where one’s pulse beats coincide with the violent throbbing of the two-o’clock sun” “Many, in fact, feign love of life to evade love itself. They try their skill at enjoyment and at “indulging in experiences.” But this is illusory. It requires a rare vocation to be a sensualist. The life of a man is fulfilled without the aid of his mind.”

[feltinpassing]

For well, you know that it's a fool Who plays it cool By making his world a little colder.

[feltinpassing]

It's important to look at your life as a progression, not a downward slope. Think of what you learned, how you progressed. Thinking of it as going down is the worst you can do to you.

[feltinpassing]

hey sorry i realized this is hella crazy :3

is what I wrote after a whole essay about how I suck and deserve unrequited love.

[feltinpassing]

I hated being reminded how my experiences are the same as everyone, because it meant that I wasted so much time thinking I was broken. But I’m not different, we’re all broken and mean, and it takes work to try to be better, and I have to accept that I suck at that work, and it’s okay, because hopefully we help each other, or even if not, it’s okay too. It’s okay to not be complete , to hate, to hate those that, just like you, hate, and close themselves off. It’s okay, we’re all fundamentally the same, with better or worse capacity to socialize but… we’re perfect just the way we are. 

[feltinpassing]

Human society, humans, are so lovely.

We should celebrate our differences, they say, but celebrating our differences leaves us with such a hole. Just a disconnection, such a wholesome reminder of our loneliness.

The more one gets to know different races, different origins, different histories, and tastes, the more it’s bittersweet. Because what we once saw as a true way to live life, as our most sacred principle, can just be easily broken by someone who lives differently, and sees their principles just as sacredly.

I looked down on marriages that are 10 years apart. I mean, it’s disgusting. I thought, to be honest, I would never befriend someone who grew up with those kinds of parents, a kind of father who would date someone 10 years younger, then I met my girlfriend, who is a product of that, but who just, knows it’s weird but, doesn’t mind, she’s healthy and the family is happy. And in a way, it does shake my world to my core, because I am reminded of a certain lostness, a freedom, a chaos, and it fills my heart with love and surrender.

[feltinpassing]

it's so precious, human life.

part of that preciousness of life, is to fill the silence, fill the silence with anything. Scream, don’t make peace with it. When you’re with someone, talk, yell, don’t be afraid, say whatever, even if it’s not you. Don’t worship the cheesez the cheese will endz and you will find new cheese

[feltinpassing]

my brain is on fucking fire.

[feltinpassing]

I was watching 21st century women, and the mother says: “Men always feel like they have to fix things for women or they’re not doing anything but, some things just cant be fixed. Just be there. Somehow that’s hard for all of you.”

“Mom, I’m- I’m not all men, I’m just me,” the 12 year old boy says.

“Well, yes, and no.” She replies. 

People normally shy away from talking about the specific real-life example that led to a generalization they have. They just say the generalization and shut up, and it’s interesting how that makes people feel about themselves.

[feltinpassing]

“… “

I’m sorry, I just have so much to do today. On you go.

“…”

Oh, to feel that way, when trying to tell someone a concern, or how you feel, to feel that they are too busy for you. Isn’t that many of us, all the time? Don’t many of us feel that way? And then that same person, they’re not really busy, they’re playing solitaire. 

[feltinpassing]

I write for those who find it hard to care, who gave up on living, who were shocked by a loss in themselves, those who were numbed out in the modern age, by social media, by our jobs, by a lack of friends, by drugs, a lack of purpose, a lack of a mother's smile, a lack of a long undivided, non-judgmental, attention. I am a cold plunge, and a hug of another soul in that very pool. I write to myself, younger and current. I write to the people who are like me, who were never given a safe place to explore the world from, who are being shoulder pushed by crowds in the streets, who are lost. I write for the sensitive and the homeless. Those who wish to never seen, and when, out of curiosity, they decide to talk to someone, to be immediately forgotten. Those distrustful of any love they receive, on the edge of their seats, grinding their teeth. Those who wear their skins inside out and hearts on their sleeve. Who wish to understand, who wish to turn back time, who can not see the love inside them.

[feltinpassing]

Oh what’s the point. Sometimes I listen to music. And I forget the point of poetry, of being sad, of complaining, of trying to meditate. Maybe it’s cause i’m already meditating. I’m alive, but in the tranquil sense. In the staring of the night sky sense, the lights of the city from a far. I don’t care what happens, I forget the pain in my body. I am present. 

It takes a little bit of bravery, it takes a little bit of daring, to take from the future to live in the present. 

We all live forever, but for every moment we feel alive, we are taking from that infinite life, and pulling our death closer, by that exact amount of time. So dare to live, dare to smoke, to love. 

[feltinpassing]

Your injury makes you who you are. A reminder of death is in all of us; the fact that you are alive despite the injury, that's what life and love is all about. Love is dependent on death, you can not fall in love with someone if you do not acknowledge that they will be gone, that you will be gone. and you cry, and you hold onto that love.

It's true, before this, there is a different kind of love, a love that doesn't think of death, the young careless love, a companion of life. We are individuals, each one of us has their own injuries, their different sensibilities. You can each enjoy your own, separately, but differently. And it's true, maybe it's sadder than that young love, maybe it's a mental hazard, a cognito hazard, an idea that, once comprehended, is a danger to yourself and others.

But i wonder, is it the same if two fall in love, and one enjoys movies and the other music, because one is blind and the other is deaf . (This is a sick short movie plot).

Would they be able to love each other without feeling lonely? Without crying? Is true young love lost forever? Is it any different? Is love with differences a vacuum towards death, towards transformation?

Everything transforms, at the end of the day.