MY LIFE SUCKS NO ONE GETS M– Time to vent a little.

I repress bad memories. I’ve always done it. The few bad things that slip through from my past are usually too dreadful to ‘forget’, even though I realise that I never truly forget any of it. I can’t even describe most of it, I don’t want to delve into that part of my life. Friends of mine tell me I have to talk about it, but it’s not worth all the negative emotions that come with it. It’s not worth opening up to people that are going to pat you on the shoulder and say “tough shit, I can’t relate”, because of just that: They cannot and do not and most likely will not even attempt to relate. They’re just shoulders to cry on, and they are useless with things like these.

So, how do I deal with the things that do pop up? Well, I do things to overshadow them. I drown them. Be it in infatuation with a girl, alcohol or drugs – I just drown my worries in something, because dealing with them is not a viable option. Even if I were willing to talk, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Psychologists are useless, I’ve outsmarted the two I met in accordance with school curricula – that sets the bar for me, psychologists are inane and full of themselves. Most likely drug abusers, too.

Why I decided to publish this post is beyond me, but I did it. Now it’s there for all to see. So suck my dick.

I had an epiphany!

Horribly cliché’d title, don’t remind me.

I had a series of revelations packed neatly together last night, it was brilliant. I was meditating and out of nowhere – bang! Everything just sort of fit together, and all the junk was filtered out. All my recent worries became trivial and just evaporated like nothing, while at the same time it was revealed to me the things that does matter. It feels a lot like a new beginning, and I simply cannot put how I feel into words.

It is the most amazing experience.

And so it begins.

It is important to clear things up. I am not going to go where nothing is to be gained. Time to look for another path, but without sealing off the other one.

An empty stare

I see nothing in your eyes.

I can’t find my way around, I feel genuinely lost. I dropped it on the floor at one point, I let go of it completely – so much I did not even notice that it was no longer in my possession. I’m going to have to find it again, it’s a tiny black box of impenetrable adamantium. It’s my black box, so stay the fuck away from it.

You know how they say that you can see a person’s true self by looking deep into their eyes, that you can gaze into their very soul? If that is so, what do you do when you look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing. The intense stare you give yourself is returned as a blank glare, devoid of life and enthusiasm. So you look away from it, try to keep yourself occupied. Indulge yourself in the things you enjoy, but every time you walk past a reflective surface – you see those eyes again. Every time you meet a friend and look them in the eye, you can see yourself. You’re hollow.
But then, suddenly, you meet someone. And the blank eyes are replaced by a thousand candles’ light focused on two, tiny pupils – and you realise you have found something good. Now tell me; why would you even risk losing that? Moreover, why did you lose it.

I need to think.

Also Sprach ZaraTHRUSTTHRUSTTHRUSTa

I’m putting all my crazy thoughts to paper in my actual, physical journal and all my processed (re-evaluated, if you will) thoughts on this. Juxtaposing the two, I reckon a lot of personal shit is being filtered out. I don’t want everyone to know everything, after all. It’d be like proposing through e-mail – you’re inevitably going to get your arse handed to you. So what do I want to put here today? Not much actually, today has been sort of dull. I suppose not all days are bound to be exciting and eventful.
I just have to learn that bonds do not deteriorate as fast as I believe, and that no news can be good news.

I’m eating a banana.
Well, I ate a banana.

Now I miss it.

There’s nothing that I can do wrong!

So what am I doing these days. Well, funny you should pose that question Mr. Imaginary Reader! I’ve been busy with school, karate and this peculiar thing called a social life. I haven’t written much the last few days. ‘Lorien’ is still my main priority. I have to buy a new karate gi, preferably a Shiai Kumite one from Budo Nord (it’s just over 1000DKK), but I’m gonna have to wait a few months to afford it. I like IB a lot, bunch of great people – some better than others. Also idiots in the Danish department, but they’re just gonna have to suffer the consequences. Action = Reaction, they have to realise this.

I am actually feeling quite great. Have been for a little while, I think life is going fairly smooth but I’m not going to get carried away by the current. Stay focused, make sure you do what feels right. And to be frank; I’m pretty sure I’m doing what I feel is right. Any doubts are rooted in me being insecure, but that’s just the way I am. Changing one’s personality isn’t an easy thing to do, and it’s not like I want to change anyway. I’m pretty cool with myself. I hope others are as well, ha ha!

I am feeling good. I felt like sharing. Goodnight, imaginary readers.

Writing as an artform & my mission!

I don’t fully understand why people dread writing assigned essays, be it work or school or something else entirely. Sure, if you’re forced to write something that goes against a principle of yours or you’re expected to lie when you do not wish to – that’s a source of dread and pain, but otherwise . . .
In the IB there is a mandatory assignment expected to be undertaken by every would-be graduate; the Extended Essay. It’s 4000 words on a topic of your liking. Out of the dozens of people I know who are writing this RIGHT NOW, not even a twentieth of them find any actual enjoyment in it. Why not?

They all have their reasons, be it laziness or lack of inspiration. This is what fundamentally separates writers as artists from writers as workers. Artistic writing is the one fueled by personal satisfaction, external acknowledgment and spontaneous inspiration all working together in HARMONY. Artists produce endlessly, usually never truly satisfied. We aim for a masterpiece.

A masterpiece we’ll probably never finish.

I will try to keep this blog updated, along with my dA Journal. It’s easier said than done, oh my.

Curiosity Killed The Cat/War Killed Everyone Else

‘I paid the price and now I’m Hell-bound’

Christian faith teaches that indulgent desire is the work of Lucifer, and that giving in to these desires indiscriminately is sinning. Lust, gluttony, wrath to name a few. Vengeance is a great, big no-no in Christianity and the ultimate revenge (or murder, for the colloquial) is, on top of a deadly sin, also a breach of the Ten Commandments given to Moses by the LORD.

It is with this in mind that I find it peculiar how Christian presidents and prime ministers across the globe can justify and rationalise their wars and conflicts the way they do. To ‘ensure freedom’, to ‘terminate oppression’ and many other excuses are all rooted in making peace and ‘freeing’ the people from whoever the invaders believe to be oppressing the inhabitants.

Thus, it is sad to realise that the peace process of ‘freeing’ a nation is perpetrated through combat and in combat there is, always, vengeance. Revenge for an attack, a fallen ally – anything. The government officials behind the military can kick back and excuse themselves all they want – they are not the ones raging an angry war somewhere in the Middle East, the soldiers are! Soldiers are either already angry or they become angry on the battlefield. Their powerful superiors in Europe and America let the bitter soldiers fight their moral fight, so that they themselves distance themselves from sin. They may, per law, be responsible for the lives taken in their given conflict – but their conscience is clear in regards to enemy combatants. They become numbers, and the greater the number; the greater the success.

War is about numbers, about casualties. It is about vengeance and anger, not about freedom. Freedom is the justification.

Blogs are impossible + bonus content

I’ve never been capable of maintaining a blog consistently. This very website is proof. My physically omnipresent journal is too.
I am never sure of what I am supposed to write, so I often start out with a title and go from there. A bit like how all my creative workings are birthed, now that I think more about it. So yeah, I am doing the International Baccalaureate and I just so happen to have returned from the first trip with my new class. Where we went and what we did is really irrelevant to this post, but how I felt about it is something I believe to be crucial.

The previous sentence sounds much more emotional that it’s supposed to be read as. Regardless, I had a great time on the trip. It’s a different experience with both new and known people, something which is always interesting. People always act different out of the confines of the classroom, and that is simply proven time upon time. Examples are not going to be given, so don’t get your hopes up.

I like people.

People are great, they’re a source of inspiration. Even when they call me out for pondering deeply, thinking I’m alone. Catching me staring into the darkness of space for a dozen minutes seems to appear slightly . . . Odd to a grand scheme of people. I don’t really care, attention is fine. I feel comfortable admitting that I’m pretty much a creativity-driven psychological masochist, it’s nothing too unorthodox. I can take advantage of a break-up in terms of creative expression, I can cling on to negative emotions without getting depressed — just so I can finish that poem or piece of prose. I don’t want to die knowing I could have – but hadn’t – completed that one, final work. My mind is a horrible place, and I mean that in almost every sense conceivable. I like people, but I don’t know if they like me. It’s rare people tell me they do, anyway.

Goodnight, imaginary readers.

What the fffff-

I, uh, what. I have a blog? I’ve been way too busy with school and deviantArt.

 

Okay, two years. I’m in IB World School now. Yeah, that’s about it. And my older entries are not a valid indicator for my English capabilities. I’ve improved in more ways than I can count.

That’s it. I’m Jonas, and I am very evil (rawr).