If you feel as though you keep hitting a brick wall in life, then there must be some type of reasoning existing behind the wall. Sometimes circumstances exist to protect you, not to hinder your progress moving forward in life. Where does this protection come from? Perhaps a holy guardian angel, also known as an inner daemon? There is no exact threshold in which this knowing can fully be attained. Sometimes there will exist periods within one’s life, which simply needs to be lived through.
It can be a confining feeling; being locked up within your mind your whole/hole life. There is no escape from the prison of one’s mind. A common place I have seemed to find myself in on a daily basis. There is no shelter in here, only the confining torment of the mind’s tricks and pleasures. A carousel of regrets, self-hatred, and lost opportunities. There is no escape from one’s self. To feel special and unique; this is a daydream only dreamers and deceivers fondle themselves in. I myself am a realist, as I can taste the bloodlust behind closed eyes. I can feel the temptations draining and rotting me from within. This is why I crave the isolation chamber; to keep the beast hidden from within, away from the rest of the world. No one has ever mistaken me for one of those weak-minded or weak-willed sycophants, who constantly need to be validated by complete and total strangers. The only thing worse than that, is being a stranger within one’s own mind.
The transition of an internal demolition. Killing the insides, just so you can grasp fragments of the air around you in order to breathe. Breath is completely overrated. Tell that to a drowning victim. In a way, we are all victims; of our decisions, choices, and personal attitudes. When life is suffocating you, and you do not have the internal capacity to breathe, it can be somewhat challenging to see straight. This is especially true if your lenses are dirty, and you need a new prescription. It’s nothing new to me: old hat. These cycles run themselves around my mind, and through my soul. Soul-crushing. A transition’s grin. The depths of insanity. The reality of uncertainty. I still look for that supposed silver lining. It’s covered in the blood and wreckage of my past. Another endeavor I could not spiritually afford. An affirmation. A devastation. The circumference of a broken heart. The radiance of a glowing death. Tears and fears in arrears. The only way to pay for life’s decisions and choices when under duress. How else did you think it was going to turn out? There is no fairytale to hold on to. There are no remembrances, which do not make me cringe. Some would say, “Just hang in there, it’ll work out if you just give it some time.” I feel as though time has run out. Time ran away from me crying and screaming. I truly wish I knew better, But at this point in my life, what the fuck is the point to any of it? The love I had within me died the day I was born.
Words have undercurrents, or undertows you could say. Contained within these underlying depths; this is where the true intentions, the true meaning of that in which is being communicated and inhabits. This is also where the fragmented deaths you have experienced within your life go to live and breathe. Nothing is permanent, as life, and everything contained within it are temporary. Finding peace within yourself (within your words) is the only peace you will find within your waking life.
All we need to do is think for ourselves properly; never allowing external forces to propagandize our thought process. Many “people” within our current civilization, do not have the capacity to properly think for themselves, as they are strangers to the critical thinking aspect of their mentality. For the majority of “people” this aspect of their mentality does not exist. These “people” become confused when they hear words they do not understand; moreover, they become more confused when the definitions of words they use have been suddenly changed. Words are used today, in which their definitions do not belong to them. Change the words and definitions of the “people”; you change the way the “people” think. This is the Control Machine’s undying purpose and goal. To control one’s thought, is to control one’s very own soul.
Returning our mind’s ownership to ourselves, is probably the most important act you will ever endure within this lifetime. The majority of “people” no longer enjoy thinking for themselves, as they prefer to be guided, and ultimately told why, what, and how to think. For the majority of “people”, they no longer see the purpose, or find any type of need to think for themselves. It’s okay, let the Control Machine think for you. By doing so, the Control Machine will comfort you with all of the mental anguish you have always longed for. When one accepts mental laziness, one ultimately accepts mental death within themselves.
Henry Rollins once said, “…all you have is yourself and your mind…” Over the course of my lifetime, I have come to understand just how true that statement is. Self-reliance within itself, is truly the only tangible grasp one can feel within their lives, as one is holding on to their nonconformist ideologies. In case you were wondering, I have never been able to depend on anyone within this lifetime; let alone trust anyone for that matter. All you can trust is one’s nature, and how they will live their life in accordance to their nature. Resourcefulness, nonconformity, volition, and self-reliance are the traits of an individual, who will only know success within their lifetime. Compliance = Death. Not necessarily a physical death, but the death of your consciousness. Remember that.
At this very moment. You are being conditioned. In thought. In word. In deed. They are not your own, as these are circumstances “brought to you by (buy)” the Control Machine. Your new best friend. Your new God. Your new parental advocacy committee. Your New Normal. You are living a lifestyle/lifetime, that has been carefully molded and mandated for the consumption and convenience of your consciousness. That gritty taste upon your tongue, and in between your teeth; that’s the taste of dirt in your mouth. What else would you be tasting lying six feet under, trapped in a casket?
G.G. Kalfas 