Journals
Fragments of my soul
Are you tired of feeling like you’re fucking crazy?
Perhaps you’re not. Perhaps it is merely the voice of God, unable to penetrate the rational mind.
I write about the intersection of the human condition and creation. I write about manifestation—not as the pursuit of desire, but as an arrival at truth; a veil that parts only through surrender.
I don’t offer guides. I offer an experience of the unseen, of transcendence in its purest expression of individuality.
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You protest, you rebel against everything that holds you back in society, yet you guilt yourself into
Camus never claimed to be anything other than he is. He didn’t have a moral compass that he later betray
I am pathetically intense, as Sylvia once said, yet I embrace such intensity.
And sometimes, even in my solitude, I don’t feel that I am truly with myself.
It isn’t something that you force yourself to, but merely an acceptance of irrationality.
Stay for the madness.
Express that madness.
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