not at all here . part 2

So I dream of a small frozen lake far North, hidden among old and tall, yet a bit curled, pine trees. I dream of living underneath the not-so-thin layer of its light blue ice sheet. This way nobody can ever even think to come looking for me. There is underwater snow falling constantly; I just lay at the bottom of the lake and quietly watch it slowly descending on my cold body and bare face as days and nights go by.

not at all here . part 1

Most of the times I walk past all the brightly yellow and purple springing flowers or heavy-scented petals of apple trees flying in the wind, I just really wish to be somewhere completely else. And I wish to be alone.

the daily nihilist no. 3

how can anyone live without ever wondering why did humans come to be on this extraordinarily average planet,

dismissing any further idea because it makes them uncomfortable,

arguing humans should just enjoy life for the sake of living, loving and multiplying

until there's no more place left on this extraordinarily average planet

that humans haven't stripped down of its natural beauty,

until there's nothing left except for bare ground, ashes and dust.

how can one live knowing
any of this also has no meaning

not at all

not to you anyway

'after my blood is drowning in alcohol'

You shouldn't look back; although when you do, rationally, you realise having self-destructive tendencies was bad, twisted mindset. Yet, you can't help but still crave such phase because at least you felt alive.

Also, you know deep down how easy would it be to dive back into self-destruction again, just to feel something or for that matter, not feel at all.

reference of a reference of a reference

The best moments in reading are when you come across something, a thought a feeling, a way of looking at things, that you had thought special, particular to you. And there it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has reached out, has come out and taken yours.

- Christopher Pullen in his book 'Gay Identity, New Storytelling and the Media', 2009, quoted from Alan Bennett's book 'The History Boys', 2006

the daily nihilist no. 2

As your bare feet touch the ground for the first time this spring, notice little dew drops hidden among the grass. Stop and move your head in just the right angle for them to reflect the sunlight. For a split of a second, you can catch a flicker of those nature's miniature colourfully gay jewels. With your every look, with every move of your head there are tens of personal pieces of rainbow for you or me to take away in our minds.

For some, it's these stupid little things that make humans happy. For a moment, they make humans forget just how much there's no real purpose in any of our lives, and how nothing wouldn't truly have any value if you didn't write it down.

the daily nihilist no. 1

In last moments before the nuclear bombs hit the ground, social media will look like World of Warcraft chat before server's down for maintenance with no ETA.

from under the sycamore trees

It's been a while.

Since I last wrote and posted something. Since I last told someone how I truly feel. Since I last actually heard little background noise such as rustling of the leaves in a wind. Since I last slept properly and woke up without the urge to scream and to cry because the loud ringing is still in my head.

They say silence is the loudest sound. I bet someone with tinnitus came up with it.