Mutter, ich bin dumm

"Es ist alles lächerlich, wenn man an den Tod denkt"
―T. B.

exulansis

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

“I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via)

« Si l’homme rit, s’il est le seul, parmi le règne animal, à exhiber cette atroce déformation faciale, c’est également qu’il est le seul, dépassant l’égoïsme de la nature animale, à avoir atteint le stade infernal et suprême de la cruauté. »

— Michel HouellebecqLa Possibilité d’une île, 2005.

speakingparts:

Do you know the word…
”wilt”?
You move a plant to a new soil.
And no matter how much you water it, it just wilts.
It won’t take root.
They’re like that.
Everything in this world causes them pain.
Our world is endless suffering for them.

Gadkie Lebedi [The Ugly Swans]
Konstantin Lopushansky 2006.

occhiolism

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

boy-kun:

"What is this?"
"It’s my.. it’s my painting."
"What did I ask you to do?"
"A dream."
"So what is this?"
"I don’t have dreams."

4:30, (2005). Royston Tan.

Do not wait for the healing to arrive. It will never come. The holes will never leave or be filled with anything at all.

But holes are interesting things

Augusten BurroughsThis Is How (via)