Leave the world behind. Say no to everyone. Isolate yourself. Sit with your own thoughts. Don't fear them, you've been afraid of them, and that's why your life has turned to mush. Let them hollow you out. Let them eat you until you feel alive. Read old books. Read Dostoevsky. Write. Create. Let people call you extreme. Let them call you psychopath. Fine. Greatness was never for the mediocre. It was for prophets who could sacrifice themselves on God's path. So sacrifice yourself for God's sake, give something from your obsession to his world. And die giving.
Leave the world behind. Say no to everyone. Isolate yourself. Sit with your own thoughts. Don't fear them, you've been afraid of them, and that's why your life has turned to mush. Let them hollow you out. Let them eat you until you feel alive. Read old books. Read Dostoevsky. Write. Create. Let people call you extreme. Let them call you psychopath. Fine. Greatness was never for the mediocre. It was for prophets who could sacrifice themselves on God's path. So sacrifice yourself for God's sake, give something from your obsession to his world. And die giving.
Consider yourself chosen. Ignore any idiot who doubts you. You need to understand things. No. I don't mean understand them from books. I mean understand them by actually doing. You need to move with the intent to build something with your bare hands. Something that leaves a hole in the world. Something that shows you breathed on this planet. And no, you won't build it by staying balanced, nor by being disciplined. It will be built by finding something and clenching it between your teeth, and not letting go, until it either breaks your teeth, or that thing goes down into your stomach and runs through your veins.
There is a man in a perfect house, sitting in his backyard on a comfy chair, writing a book about how God doesn't exist. Meanwhile, the house he is in was made by some man who didn't know how to build a house but built it anyway because something inside his chest was killing him. And yet he isn't abandoning God. nevertheless, he gave something to God's world that would stay there even after his life ends.
There is a man in a perfect house, sitting in his backyard on a comfy chair, writing a book about how God doesn't exist. Meanwhile, the house he is in was made by some man who didn't know how to build a house but built it anyway because something inside his chest was killing him. And yet he isn't abandoning God. nevertheless, he gave something to God's world that would stay there even after his life ends.
Leave the world behind. Say no to everyone. Isolate yourself. Sit with your own thoughts. Don't fear them, you've been afraid of them, and that's why your life has turned to mush. Let them hollow you out. Let them eat you until you feel alive. Read old books. Read Dostoevsky. Write. Create. Let people call you extreme. Let them call you psychopath. Fine. Greatness was never for the mediocre. It was for prophets who could sacrifice themselves on God's path. So sacrifice yourself for God's sake, give something from your obsession to his world. And die giving.
the man who makes plans and sets goals has already lost. because God had the treasure of an entire kingdom to give him, but he saw a few coins, and got happy.
Your first mistake was thinking life could be lived the easy way. That you could live without dying. Live without becoming obsessive. Live without hitting rock bottom. then you curse God for not blessing you with things. He didn't bless you because you didn't tire yourself out. You didn't lose your mind. Your hands are still clean. They should be dirty. They should be in blood. They should show that you've been through the fire. Suffering was humanity's first blessing from God. It was from that very suffering that humans built things out of stone. Just as God made humans from dust and breathed life into them. use it idiot. use it. isolate yourself, let yourself hit rock bottom. then hope.
Your first mistake was thinking life could be lived the easy way. That you could live without dying. Live without becoming obsessive. Live without hitting rock bottom. then you curse God for not blessing you with things. He didn't bless you because you didn't tire yourself out. You didn't lose your mind. Your hands are still clean. They should be dirty. They should be in blood. They should show that you've been through the fire. Suffering was humanity's first blessing from God. It was from that very suffering that humans built things out of stone. Just as God made humans from dust and breathed life into them. use it idiot. use it. isolate yourself, let yourself hit rock bottom. then hope.
The cure to brain rot isn't books or videos. but the silence you turn your back on. the one that whispers in your ear after 2am saying. im alive. I'm alive. im still here. and you listen to it and feel completely naked. then in the morning you burry it, by listening to some Idiot telling you how to live.
God wrote metaphors on stones, and prophets wrote scriptures from them. I have read those scriptures with perfect context and philosophy, and yet I know nothing about what God was trying to say. I was an idiot who spent his entire life thinking that no one is chosen, yet the prophets who understood God's message were chosen. The man who moved mountains for nothing was chosen. The woman who stayed pure was chosen. And as Nietzsche described it best. "I am not the mouth of these ears"
The cure to brain rot isn't books or videos. but the silence you turn your back on. the one that whispers in your ear after 2am saying. im alive. I'm alive. im still here. and you listen to it and feel completely naked. then in the morning you burry it, by listening to some Idiot telling you how to live.
God wrote metaphors on stones, and prophets wrote scriptures from them. I have read those scriptures with perfect context and philosophy, and yet I know nothing about what God was trying to say. I was an idiot who spent his entire life thinking that no one is chosen, yet the prophets who understood God's message were chosen. The man who moved mountains for nothing was chosen. The woman who stayed pure was chosen. And as Nietzsche described it best. "I am not the mouth of these ears"
I questioned life and was told to sit down and be quiet. I was told I was crazy. And I thought about things so much until I got a migraine. I refused to eat certain foods. I refused to follow certain things.I refused to walk on the paths that society told me to walk on. And The moment I refused society, It called me a spoiled child. I kept thinking about what was wrong. And came to know that people who think are prophets, people who question are prophets. But the world doesn't want prophets, it wants clerks who obey, as the world did.
My father ran a bakery for seven years at a loss and didn't complain once. He stayed silent like a prophet. Everyone called him stupid. But he still didn't speak a word, because maybe he knew something that no one knows: and that is Silence. Now, when things have gotten better, he still hasn't said a word.