I am a lazy good-for-nothing bastard. All I really care about in life is nothing. I have no special skills or talents to boast. I really have no desire to work for a living. I don't care if I die tomorrow or even right now. Nothing in life has ever satisfied me fully, but then again, who am I do demand satisfaction from life?
The truth is that I really don't care about anything anymore. Whether I make anyone happy or sad is of no concern to me. I don't really desire high position or fame. Neither do I reject it if it comes. I have nothing more to do. Everything that is done is done. I do not desire to be anyone. I am already who I am. Neither striving nor rejecting, I take whatever comes. I have nothing to look forward to. No solace in looking back. I have no idea if I will survive to old age and neither do I care. I have no idea if I will ever fall in love with a woman again and this too I do not care. I do not know if I will ever have a girlfriend or a wife and this does not bother me. I am already who I am. This is all really. What more is there. Experiences will happen. I will gain and lose. I might have surprises both pleasant and unpleasant. Maybe I will fall in love again. Possibilities will always exist. And I dont care which possibility I choose. I will make many choices. What I will choose or not is of no concern to be. Who I am is choiceless. I am already what I am. There is no choice her. I have no choice but to be what I am. How does it matter what I choose? Or who I choose? There is no motivation left for me. I just drift along whwerever life takes me too. Thoughts come and go. Experiences come and go and then become memory. All experience transforms into memory. And memory itself is not reliable. The story of my life might be one of success or failure. Of loss or gain. Of tragedy or comedy. Of suffering or joy. How does this matter? No solace in anything. No experience everlasting. All that is there is just this. Forever now. I dont know why I am writing this. The desire to know is a huge burden. The desire for the approval of others is the biggest burden one can carry. How does it affect who you are right now? I have no idea why I do the things I do. Why do I have this desire to survive? Why does fear still keep visiting? All these happenings coming and going like couds. But I am the sky, forever the same. Do or not do? Activity or stillness? To do or to be? Does any of it really matter? Why do I keep myself alive? Why is the question still there? Whay is curiosity still there? Why, why, why? Tormented by doubt. How can one give up the desire to know? Why do we have to 'try' to be still? Is stillness an activity to be performed? Countless questions...forever present, no answers...no looking forward...no looking back...who am i then? No great story here, just an ordinary life...no control over anything, though forever trying...what propels me? why express? all is well, or not, no matter, no point..can't stop trying..but trying won't help..deep paradox, this guy will die...so who wants to know, who cares what happens, and why cant i stop??...why to stop? why to continue?...why to love?...why to laugh?..why to be happy?...life is despair...always dark...joy is transient, suffering is transient...but they keep repeating...i care for neither...choice is hell...don't care to create...but cant stop doing...cant stop flowing...what stupidness is this?...comings and goings, gains and losses, defeats and victories, what is real...deeply conflicted desires...being someone is hell...having complete freewill is hell...choice is terryfying...death is the best friend...life is cruel...identity will dissolve...new one will arise..who am i?...a lover, a philosopher, a scientist, a fool, a loser, a student, a teacher, a son, a lazy bum, a sadist, a jealous bastard, a despairer, a creep, a weirdo, a curious guy, a people pleaser, a clown, a hero??? in this play of identity, nothing remains, lost in language, lost in forms...love is just a word...all words just dissolve into nothing...at heart, there is nothing to do and no one to be...being is as futile as doing...no words can remain, all words are useless...attachment to words is misery...nither doing, nor being, nor seeking, nor seeing...fuck shit...nothing here...??????????????????....FUCK....i cannot stand this uncertainty...i have only one desire, to know that by knowing which all desire to know is extinguished...all that i desire is freedom from doubt...complete conviction...uncertainty will kill me...complete and absolute knowing...to become that knowing...doubt kills...to fuck with knowing itself and become knowledge...even love will not satisfy...because there is doubt in love...knowing the knower by destroying everything, so that there is nothing but knowing and no knower...who wants to know??? what creates doubt?
The truth is that I really don't care about anything anymore. Whether I make anyone happy or sad is of no concern to me. I don't really desire high position or fame. Neither do I reject it if it comes. I have nothing more to do. Everything that is done is done. I do not desire to be anyone. I am already who I am. Neither striving nor rejecting, I take whatever comes. I have nothing to look forward to. No solace in looking back. I have no idea if I will survive to old age and neither do I care. I have no idea if I will ever fall in love with a woman again and this too I do not care. I do not know if I will ever have a girlfriend or a wife and this does not bother me. I am already who I am. This is all really. What more is there. Experiences will happen. I will gain and lose. I might have surprises both pleasant and unpleasant. Maybe I will fall in love again. Possibilities will always exist. And I dont care which possibility I choose. I will make many choices. What I will choose or not is of no concern to be. Who I am is choiceless. I am already what I am. There is no choice her. I have no choice but to be what I am. How does it matter what I choose? Or who I choose? There is no motivation left for me. I just drift along whwerever life takes me too. Thoughts come and go. Experiences come and go and then become memory. All experience transforms into memory. And memory itself is not reliable. The story of my life might be one of success or failure. Of loss or gain. Of tragedy or comedy. Of suffering or joy. How does this matter? No solace in anything. No experience everlasting. All that is there is just this. Forever now. I dont know why I am writing this. The desire to know is a huge burden. The desire for the approval of others is the biggest burden one can carry. How does it affect who you are right now? I have no idea why I do the things I do. Why do I have this desire to survive? Why does fear still keep visiting? All these happenings coming and going like couds. But I am the sky, forever the same. Do or not do? Activity or stillness? To do or to be? Does any of it really matter? Why do I keep myself alive? Why is the question still there? Whay is curiosity still there? Why, why, why? Tormented by doubt. How can one give up the desire to know? Why do we have to 'try' to be still? Is stillness an activity to be performed? Countless questions...forever present, no answers...no looking forward...no looking back...who am i then? No great story here, just an ordinary life...no control over anything, though forever trying...what propels me? why express? all is well, or not, no matter, no point..can't stop trying..but trying won't help..deep paradox, this guy will die...so who wants to know, who cares what happens, and why cant i stop??...why to stop? why to continue?...why to love?...why to laugh?..why to be happy?...life is despair...always dark...joy is transient, suffering is transient...but they keep repeating...i care for neither...choice is hell...don't care to create...but cant stop doing...cant stop flowing...what stupidness is this?...comings and goings, gains and losses, defeats and victories, what is real...deeply conflicted desires...being someone is hell...having complete freewill is hell...choice is terryfying...death is the best friend...life is cruel...identity will dissolve...new one will arise..who am i?...a lover, a philosopher, a scientist, a fool, a loser, a student, a teacher, a son, a lazy bum, a sadist, a jealous bastard, a despairer, a creep, a weirdo, a curious guy, a people pleaser, a clown, a hero??? in this play of identity, nothing remains, lost in language, lost in forms...love is just a word...all words just dissolve into nothing...at heart, there is nothing to do and no one to be...being is as futile as doing...no words can remain, all words are useless...attachment to words is misery...nither doing, nor being, nor seeking, nor seeing...fuck shit...nothing here...??????????????????....FUCK....i cannot stand this uncertainty...i have only one desire, to know that by knowing which all desire to know is extinguished...all that i desire is freedom from doubt...complete conviction...uncertainty will kill me...complete and absolute knowing...to become that knowing...doubt kills...to fuck with knowing itself and become knowledge...even love will not satisfy...because there is doubt in love...knowing the knower by destroying everything, so that there is nothing but knowing and no knower...who wants to know??? what creates doubt?
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