I and Reality

I was daydreaming , hearing nothing but cluttering resonance. While people go about their social gagging habits, (face and mouth involuntarily moving), my mind took me to the fields. Running and playing with the wind. At the end of what seems to be an infinite plane, a dark hole suddenly exists. The ground was engulfing, attractively sucking me in. I got out back to where I started–a table shared with peers, all eyes freakishly staring at my face. “Uhm, what was that again?” I disappear just like that.

I wonder sometimes if I exist. Do my feelings exist? Do they exist? I was only sure of one thing. They trust I exist. They trust I will exist for as long they want and/or need me. It was a pain to see people attach themselves to needs and wants. It was a pain to imagine their recurring memories. We cannot claim anything of this world though because this is a home for vicious humans with passion for owning. Even that they do not own.

I am but a passing traveler. Learning from he, she and them. I have realized their utmost desire for attention and they would do anything to attain that.

For weeks, I have been trying to finish the story of Maria. The dangerous urge to live it so I can fully understand her thinking. It would mean wiping away my existing reality and impersonating a character at a distance not known to anyone I know. Just like any other stories written, the end has precluded and consequences calculated. Sometimes, the character conquers that it’s beginning to eat my insides.

I’m not crazy. I’m aware of my eccentricity. The propensity of fear overcomes with such intensity to drown in believing I know too much..that I think too much.. that I wander too much.. that I can’t sleep because the mind fashions words as I would have written it.. that I have never let anyone in.

Growing up, I have learned that insatiable appetite for excellence can be a social liability. My interests are complex. I’ve watched faces taunted with what-the-fuck responses. So I had to acquire casual manner for speaking and behaving. I realized that some things need not be heard.

Maybe I’m not alone in thinking this way. They said I am. Alone. In thinking the way I do. But who cares? We are not what we do or say. We are not what we make. We are what we think, most of which we don’t relay.

Everyday, I hear people raise up microphones on their mouths affirming how superior they are. No one really is. It is rather a proof that music is superior. Calculus is or theoretical physics. Chemistry or arts. Vanity or rage. Power or monetary. We are to blame for making it. I don’t have a point in even writing this. This is just me dismembering pieces of my quiet neurons firing away into words.

Let me give you one final piece of advice. Nothing is factual. It is mere faith on your own reality sensibly existing. You will not know now but maybe tomorrow..or later.

The Lying Game

This is the Age of Deception. A time we are accessibly possessed by what we see, hear or feel. A moment the concept of self is slowly collapsing. We started changing when everything outside had become too loud to hear our quiet selves.

I’d like to say we didn’t trust at all but were rather presented a falsified truth no one can escape. More than what we can grasp, the weight of this truth is determined by the extent of its impact–that is, the number of people and period of time this fake truth continues to exist. There is one fact though about the truth people have missed. However means it is buried, truth resurfaces like a seed coming to life. Even when deprived of light, it will be its own light.

Growing up, I’ve witnessed the world change in shape and colors. The herd followed an unknown lead. I tried as much as I can to take their direction but behind the shadows of unseeming eyes, a child’s world was created bounded with nothing but faith. Completely barricaded despite the complications of my flawed personality. I realized, perfection is not an absolute necessity nor a luxury. In greatness or worst state, I appreciate the eccentricity and simplicity of my nature.

The principle of personal pessimism holds that one thing is false or invalid unless proven. What I’m simply saying is, everything is wrapped in a hard bound shell. The way the old folks do it requires suffcicient time to ripen while buried in soil. It is one hard reality we all have to live with everyday. Leaders implement a law and exempt themselves from it. Media has become a tool to hypnotically create mass behavior and perception. The company you work for conditions a mind towards profit whatever it takes. People on the streets beg or steal as an easier resolute. Our friends or blood betray us out of personal interest. Addiction and Vanity kill our identity. So I walk the road among my brothers and sisters. Even so, I knew I wouldn’t have to walk through the same end. I try to cautiously live each day with utter consideration of results and never plan 2 days after, a week after, years after or when my end is nearly close.

The capacity for deception is depicted systematically. You have to understand that everyone is capable of it. After all, everyone has personal interest. An authority, reputation, or popularity counts as an effective character presence often less doubted. They are reasonably equipped and hence become the biggest threat. They have enough resources and power to orchestrate an atmosphere that supports a false truth. Such blinding masquerade can challenge our old perception moreso when majority give their approval to a new one. This is an age where your scope of witnessing can extend to any part of the globe. As far as I’m concerned, everyday, I am witnessing a possessed social structure. The dogma of replacing our physiologicals part and orginal form. The synthetic remedy of human pain, starvation and confusion. Our morality is nevertheless, gone or twisted.

We say an option exists.That freedom to choose was lost when fear of losing has become poignant as cowardice. Resistance to adapt means the kind of life human fears. Isn’t that what human is motivated for? The very reason for unconditional efforts. And when the rut immobilizes you, this is where it all starts and stops. You have nowhere to go but get stuck.

My advice is, live simply as if you don’t know what’s going on. But do not take their drugs. Do not think how they think. Do not say their words. Prevent aphyxiation from universal habits. Until now, I have never taken picture of myself posted in social media nor played applications online. I just couldn’t. I prefer to savor pencil marks on a drawing pad or write random thoughts after weekdays of work.

 

 

Mumbling..

I am in debt.

You have such confidence to buy my freedom.

You who think is stronger than Samson.

knowing than Pythagoras and theorists.

I have to save you from assuming.

 

This is not a poem.

Neither a dialogue.

There are no meters, rhythm or syllabication.

I don’t know what this is.

Maybe a warning,  anathema, schadenfreude.

 

The cold mist explores the volatile atmosphere.

I have no wise thoughts but an urge to prepare.

It may come as gravitational and stellar mishaps.

A universal accident..or by reason of faith.

And just as we humans justify, “it is what it is.”

It is rather a scrape of the surface.

 

It is a wonder how people speculate on my wandering.

The inability to express at the same wavelength perceived as stupidity.

Doll make up and stature. Date hopping and incapacity to attach.

Radical philosophy and free spirited mingling.

Pessimism and conceptualizing virtue of Now.

Unstable emotions and discrete thoughts. Alienated demeanor towards normal circumstance.

Acceptance of death and my withering strength.

 

I understand you cannot recover nor forget.

My shoes are not fittingly of comfort and familiarity to others.

Why do you believe I am the blackwidow then?

If you have high hopes of changing fate and me.

I am in debt. Of the years I was trained to do as I am tasked.

My resources are enormously laid free for it is of purpose.

And for that I cannot indulge as I please.

 

This quiet plea to grow conscience.

Name, title, face, fashion. Monetary value and eloquence of speech.

Recognition. Do you really think it would matter if you realize what this world is made of?

How can you find truth if one is picking out from a dump where parasites hover around.

They tell you one truth to masquerade another truth in hiding.

By gaining, you have lost peace. No mercy even in death.

 

Consider this mumbling as nothing but some crazy adaptation of reality in my head

When I occasionally break in silence..my eyes hysterically stuck in hypnotic state.

The Woman Without A Future

I was mesmerized by the virility of waves that wet my feet as it kissed the shoreline. That was me. Wondering where I’ll end up in few months. I stopped planning since the time fate took over my guts. Back in the city, the lights never fade. My arm is wrapped around mild shopping spree. So what now?  Oh yeah, I was here to continue the explores of my novel.

I want to share some pointers on living the crazy feat of uncertainty. The key is to have Faith. To live in faith means to fear nothing and no one of this world.  That doesn’t mean you’re headed through an easy going carnival ride. You have to understand that there is no place for familiar routes. The first step is to believe that you were made for a noble purpose. Skills are tools. Experience is a training ground. People are your aid, trainers or accidental travelers needing resources. So do not expect permanency in company among them. Second step is to realize that you are only but a body and soul. Critically distinguish necessity and luxury. Expect 50 percent of necessity as sacrificial when circumstances call. Luxury is a temptress throwing out rationality of humanity to complete obsolete.

Don’t trust anyone. No One is responsible to fulfill your needs, happiness or goals. However, you are responsible for the ramifications of your actions. That’s not fair, isn’t it? It’s who you are. It’s who you’ve always been. Life is a purpose. Death is a done deal. It’s a stairway to home. So you can only care so much to prevent physiological physics–time and what the body does in finite space. Soft skin, stamina, sculptured contour..why would that matter? In the long run, all those vibrant cells will decompose and nourish the soil. In the long run, last breath would remind you of the loss. The loss is not of this world but inside you.

Don’t humor me with justifying irrelevance of philosophy to material world. The world cannot be shaped. The world made you believe that. You are only in control of oneself. So be the best at what is entitled of you.

I was asked more than once about what makes me happy. Ridiculously, it takes time to figure out an answer. I thought there’s something wrong with the question. Why does it have to sound like an ultimate-driven pursuit? Why can’t it be one among the regular bright spots of experience?

For 34 years, fate taught me to elevate subconscious..contemplate an absolute reality with conviction. Brain is as complex as that because you’re going to be knocked out a million times. Your armor is what you believe in. My shot is, I am the woman who has no future.

Before the Beginning..

Heaven-s-Angels

Before the beginning, before the light and darkness, before the roots of my blood came to a form, there exist vague shapes,
and colors.. a dimension that time and space cannot define. While I’m rocked by my own despair swallowing the feelings they
call pleasure, a voice asked me to write about a dream before my eyes become poignant. What people see in this body is not
what it seems. I am bound to lose this life when thy will is done.

The comrades serve the Creator, who are in His likeness and power. And so they feel but not with great extent as that given
to humans. They play, challenge each other, love as He had taught. They fear His greatness. They grow jealous, pride, and
later on, lust when humans came to being. There’s a heinous place called prison of which no one has ever been. The suffering
repeats itself for eternity, rumor says.

A human in His likeness finally breathe as a form. Without a power, the form dies to free the soul from the sins of the
envious world. As to why they were created–such is a perfect creation that is not of angel. Without power, humans can
create.. become a master of own physicality. Humans have free will.

The sins of the mother and father were passed on to generations. It is the sin caused by an unretiring snake looking for
reasons.

The snake. He was orchestrating the dawn of rebellion against the ultimate power. In the midst of such chaos, the
Creator gave birth to the last and youngest among them. The new breed is then called, Athena.

Lucifer spoke among the doubting comrades spurring a transition. “We are own power. We lead than follow. We pursue our own
destiny– the same gift acquired by low-life creatures. We must take a stand for we will take over by number. If an alliance
must be made. then we will to proclaim our infinite worth.” And so he was heard.

Ha Satan wandered the barren earth looking for humans deserving of a grace if loyalty towards the Creator persists. He found
a man named Jacob, abundant of herd, propesterous as a father to 12 young men. He found a precious heart and a solid faith
that knew less of sufferings. One by one, the herd losts its way from the inland. One by one, the young men died from
unimaginable causes. His woman fled with another man.

Jacob walked for days until he reached a lofty ridge. He then cried through the wild terrains of wind,
“Father, I have followed You. I have served with all my might. Why have you forsaken me?”

Loneliness killed his weeping heart. In the subdued corners of idle silence, calmness rendered faith. Surrendering time after
a confirmation of faith. “Father, if such is Your will, then I love until my death.” The Creator was awoken by an agonizing
whisper. As soon as Jacob jumped off the height, the water waved like cushion springing to catch his weight. Ha satan flew to
Lucifer’s side for refuge, out of fear by his deed…

Then, Now and Tomorrow..

I have failed to break the routine on my birthday, and that is to spend it by myself contemplating on the more important things than my needs. Moving in the city, sharing the unit with bunch of girls who work in barren world among preoccupied souls, they reminded I coexist. So I had coffee with one of them and shared dinner with most, laughing like crazies. There were messages and calls belonging from what I’d refer to as the box of forgotten.

 

This weekend, I went home at my mom’s after being away for over a month. She woke up as soon as I walked in. She was waiting for me to talk since its almost has been that I’m back in the old room when I’m running away from something. I told her the story and it seems she had outgrown my ill-fated stories. I knew what she’s thinking—the cursed one!

 

Few things have come to a conclusion after a dogmatic self superimpose:

 

The girls are my loyal allies or my haters.

 

I burn myself to further affirm a solid assumption.

 

One foot is always readied towards disconnecting.

 

I’m a weird speaker. A hybrid of naïve principle and philosophical intellect.

 

I have categorized acquaintances to strict distinction–The essential. The future. Temporaries. Forgotten.

 

I am tenable of emotions. I forget feelings.

 

 

I am the Blackwidow. The weird. The geek. The cynical. The Bitch. The irrelevant theorist. A contending entity of spirituality and wickedness.

 

I have no future. I rather wait for the manifestation of my actions today.

 

I live to write. The result of my writings is the start and the ultimate end

 

Where the new field is, the grasses were pulled one by one from their roots tenaciously. In the process, I was cut by thorned ones and engulfed by tall masses. I wanted to burn all of it, same as last time but I’d be left with nothing. A charcoaled soil with no life form. My faith taught me to mine hope in the midst of dismal. So I’m taking my time now. Though the horizon seems shadowed by uncertainty, I knew deep within that “the case of Maria” will be history. My hands will orchestrate a new symphony. And then the chosen one who was predicted and that I was warned of. That time has come near I suppose.

Clearing the Bad Seed

Somewhere between the depths of hell and earth, fate awoken the caveats of natural forces to throw me out of the black den. Blackwidow found herself in a remote coast where the dangers of men’s urges provoked her serene disposition. I got through the indecent propositions and attempt of abuse. That wasn’t enough though. Now she’s lured back in the city where every breath stinks of corruption.

I went back doing what what I was good at–exploiting the sinister guide to handling bitches and assholes. The corporate environment has not changed a bit, or maybe has gotten worse. Women grit their teeth at the sight of a new girl dressed up like a doll, getting attention from their object of desires. They tat from behind in alliance, alienating and blaspheming the quiet unknown. I expected that.

So the managers strain on each other’s authority, procuring a chain on my neck. Their balls heat up from wanting to be rubbed when their egos bounce back against their faces. The Blackwidow is who she is. She observes, coheres, submits and eats up when the subject falls prey of his or her own emotions. I have sworn to recoil from own wicked tendencies but I might contemplate on making some exceptions.

This is what everyone keeps on failing at–making assumptions in the midst of inadequacy to gather information. So they think my IQ is negative just because the pretty smile and passive approval do not debate on their bickering social flaws. In this moment, while the sweet aroma of Starbucks coffee lightens the burden of heightened shoes, the cards had been laid to a conclusion. Their subconscious perceptions need to be knocked out of altered reality.

I thought I would never lay hands on the old manual but the prejudice on existing circumstance calls for an action. The next few days..weeks..they will realize who they are after. The goal is to force the habit of equality. One cannot put down anyone such that a distinct hierarchy exists. One must not delude himself or herself of relative perfection but rather abort the animosity caused by own standards. One must not weigh value to humans based on materialistic notions. One must not forget that everyone came from one Father. They are burdened by their own wrath, consumed by their efforts to take someone’s freedom.

I am where I’m at now for a reason. In fact, I didn’t do a shit to be here.

New Image-beach

The Blind Sheep

We are subdued by the parliaments of practices within the bounds of culture and religion. Those who are part of such reinforcements are already aware they are obliged to commit a consented crime, even if subjected to global human activists’ scrutinies. You think that the one “God” bothers to observe the meticulous perfection of rituals. Thy candles should not wear off during mass; Thy parent should strictly sell out their children for marriage; Thy followers should not question the authority of leader’s judgment. We become mere dust metals nurtured to fervor and behave in unison just as what the unknown force from a distance dictates. Such idiosyncracies are lucid and unabated through time. Who are you following, really?

 

Faith is a realized experience. Science tells us that faith is no coincidence but a matter of truth. You do not have faith to flourish and demand for abundance but rather to find reasons for pain. The addiction towards dopamine and any forms of psychoactive ingredients neurologically mimicking the ultimate state of happiness, has become more apparent. We are fool to believe that happiness exists when pain is eliminated.

 

If they say Devils and Divine forms are archetypal products of our ancestors’ version of anathema, then let me tell you my own fictional sloth imagery:

 

The Devil is not metaphysical. It is unseen just as the Divine forms. They whisper. They reason. They motivate. They urge. They make you feel good. One that fulfills the body and not of soul. The Divine forms are silent whispers of pain and their reasons. Those reasons overthrow hatred and invite a parlance of wisdom.

A person of strong will and faith has more demons than what an average person has. But we are conditioned to exempt such person of strength from corruption. In fact, that person is dimensionally served and exposed in warren buffet of deceipt due to the expanse of his or her cause. So I must warn to look after himself/herself more than the others.

 

 

The theory of Self versus Reality

There’s one professor in Stanford who asked what references am I getting my ideas from. I responded, “I am not a reader but an observer.” He remarked by saying I am a creator then. The fact of the matter is, orientation is based on zealotry towards pure Self. More than the socially impaired environment, main focus is to observe physicality as a separate entity outside my will and mind. The body is fed with just what it needs to get by. That includes food, water, sexual pleasures, technological commodities limited to just a laptop and internet. No phones or anything I would refer to as auxiliaries When the body behaves towards achieving fulfillment, it indulges more to experience pleasure. An addiction to pleasure overcomes rationality and will, a characteristic of Self. So we are all lost. Figuratively and literally.

 

It has always been a common quizzing, justifying why deny myself of pleasure. Why would someone turn down an opportunity to acquire and feel with intensity? Isn’t that irrational? If I delve into the concept of Self catapulted from a personal imaginary conceptualization, people might just regard it as falsified babbling of an antisocial.

 

Consider fasting as endurance to starvation. Reluctance to starve or skip meals will condition the mind to always amount to fullness. You’ll forget about the unfortunate crouched among the slum streets suffering from gastric inactivity. You will never learn to share nourishment because the body craves for that.

 

Consider the act of celibation. If the mind cannot endure pleasurable memory cells creeping the subconscious, I would be nothing but a slave to stimulants. I would relentlessly monetized on physical image to acquire power over others, to seduce those bounded within the sanctimonious relationship, and in the same way, be drawn towards the pit of a better strategist.

 

While I watch my physicality get comfortable with past behavior, the mind was startled and could only utter, “Why the fuck did you do that?” I gave away the sovereignty of willful Self under the regime of most accepted reality.

 

Believe that you loaned a money transacted virtually when the assets or capital where it came from never really existed. Believe that you’re kissing, holding hands, having sex virtually. Believe a world recoiled from someone else’s established reality. Believe that we are against an oppressor, fighting for our freedom, when in truth, they are fighting for the same reason. Who are we kidding?

 

My point being is, sacrifice is self preservation if you would consider oneself as one unit of atom creating a bigger deal of energy when joined with all others. Hence, you can create and destroy. And by destroying the others, you have destroyed yourself as a conjoining unit within a containment. It doesn’t matter if someone struck you. They have taken away the invaluable facets but never the Self. Self is the calculated seed of energy that can create life,. Not the assumed reality but Life.

 

In relation to the theory of love, a revision of the exposition will further bring a concrete identification of Self and how it is revived within the dynamics of perceived social system.

The Wolf Who Bit the Blackwidow

It’s been weeks derailing myself of writing a word. My characters though are catching up with unspoken feelings. This time, I didn’t hold inhibitions. It was explicit, exactly as I’ve masturbated on or painfully imagined.

My life, no matter how realistically caved in within barriers, seemed always visible. Not entirely visible but disputed towards being thrown publicly. I must admit. I hate people sometimes. I hate being around them. I loathed at being chased. I hate the persistence out of physical motivation. I hate that they are desperately keen of attention they’d do anything in the name of it. But maybe I don’t hate them at all. I just hate their intentions and the need to impose it on others.

Don’t judge me. I have tried to rued and connive against my will. Everytime a hand reaches out through a slightly opened door, I freak out and run. I could imagine a beastly archetypal image behind it waiting to devour on unconscious prey. I have probably run away more than 10 times in a span of few months. The statistics is expected to grow higher in the next few weeks. As to why the splurge on letting down people takes an unprecedented toll—it was never intended. I just keep trying and eventually fade away.

Now there’s a man who walked in with an erratically confident demeanor. The baffling twist was that he transparently laid his intention. And that is to break down my so-called barriers by spurring out intense wavelength of emotions. He doesn’t mean sweeping me off my feet, the way the others have romanticized the social ordeals. He would try for days to pacify my incompetence and irregularities. Then disappear for more than a week. Pattern goes on with assumed calculated stimulus. I couldn’t break away from not paying attention. Who wouldn’t? He’s a reincarnate of Adonis in my creative stories. The very image of curvature and stature. His intellect is a painstaking nuisance on my beholden philosophy. He’s cunning, playful and unafraid.

So lately, he has been reading the “copy book case of the hunter getting hunted,” which is far fetched from his previous implementations. Pretensions of vulnerability was convincingly powerful that my mouth became relentless. Yep. I told him I like him back. A blasphemy to my sworn principle was stormed by unrequited lament. Within seconds, he said “I don’t wana hurt your ego by saying I was just fooling around.” I had to revive my composure by not taking the rest seriously when he went on for another try. His artful ways of encouraging me to initiate a communication for once was further superimposed this time. Of course I wouldn’t fall for that. I am walking memory stick. I never forget.

It’s been weeks and the test is still on. Watching him  go by every now and then. But I refuse to take action. I refuse to engage further. Hating him has made me more oblivious of everyone else. Sadly, I do miss him.

Now the goal is to prepare a traversing approach. A scheme that would end up his trails. He’s watching while I’m watching him watch me. I’m going to be still until the wolf comes in again but I’m rather hoping he’s lost and gone. If he finds his way back, the beast will wail over his own trap.

Kendall F. Person, thepublicblogger

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