Entry 29: Psycho

diary

Our sight is limited, is that not the actual reading between the lines? Is that not the deceit of a “benefit of a doubt”? There are no lines at all. Everything we think or feel is the fabrication of visions and perspectives. I find myself crazed because I live in the perception of my own reality. I ponder if we are supposed to live in the perception of everyone else, while at times others live in the perceptions of you.

Is that the psychotic notion? Is that an irrational thought? Is your choice to apply your passion the wrong choice, the illogical one? Do you have too much passion? Suppose you simply have a clipped wing of delusion which hinders your ability to recognize when to turn it off. Is there such a possibility that in some instances and scenarios, passion is not only not a requirement, but is absolutely useless? It is inefficient and without power? Are we not supposed to apply a hint of passion and sincerity to everything? To give the “benefit of the doubt”?

I conclude we are not.

Passion is my chaos, passion is my psycho. It is the one-sided view that isn’t measured by logical or tangible things. It is the fishing line that is repeatedly cast out and emptily reeled in again, it is nearly invisible with a tie of hope knotted on the end. Passion is not real, it is chance, it is a moment, a gaze, a thought. It is as analogous to beauty as anything. It is the eye of the beholder that measures its worth, a perception that is not your own. If your beholders reality is one without the presence of passion, your theoretical conclusion is there is none. There is nothingness, emptiness, you’re insane.

Blessed be those with the ability to understand the reasons to no meaning. Blessed be those who efficiently cap their passion. Blessed be those who cannot feel at all.


This is how it ends.

Endless haunting.

Smiling eyes.

My heart is bleached white.

Haunted by a fleeting nostalgia.

Is voodoo real time?

You wish you felt it.

The ripples flow out. Womp. Womp. Womp.

You cannot hear it, you feel it as your feet dangle into the water.

We’re wishing your mind felt as cool as your toes.

Measuring, manipulating the desired distance.

That sun is hot.

My lids lift like a power clean.

Staring off, your eye stares right back at me.

And so this is how it ends.

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