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 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.

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.

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

Now I miss it.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).