Empatia Imortal....

Sei de cor cada passo que pretendo dar, longe de mim estão os caminhos que desejo percorrer. Caminhos sem rosas, sem luar, caminhos silenciosos, frios, sombrios. Caminhos lacerados, por onde me perderei sempre que desejar e quando não desejar. São estes caminhos lacerados que me darão resposta aos segredos mais profundos, mais escondidos da minha consciência. Quem percorrerá comigo estes caminhos....a minha mais profunda consciência, a minha sombra que transporta consigo toda a transparência existente em mim. Caminhos mágicos, por onde descobrirei o que sou e o que pretendo ser. Caminhos que me ajudarão a decidir se desejo apenas existir, ou se desejo ir mais além e Viver. Caminhos que me ensinarão a conviver com a dor, com a alegria, com a inexistência, com a decadência, com a demência, com o tédio, com a vontade, com a mágoa. Enfim, como atingir a sublimação, como atingir o que de melhor deverá existir dentro de mim, onde haverá tranquilidade, algo puro, delicado, sublime e transcendentemente sonhador. Da viagem por todos estes caminhos fazem parte alguns momentos especiais, de entre os quais posso citar uma noite especial. Incredulamente sinto ainda a noite passada a correr-me nas veias, com igual intensidade à de uma noite de loucura. Defino-a como noite nostálgica e memorável, em que uma inexplicável empatia com experiências passadas se abateu sobre os nossos seres. Os sorrisos, as gargalhadas, a cumplicidade dos olhares, os gestos...todos eles embalados por um desejo comum..por um caminho comum....o de alegremente recordar episódios inquestionavelmente memoráveis, únicos, que de tão subtis na altura, são hoje a alma deste processo de recordação, são a alma da empatia sentida ontem, hoje e sempre...uma empatia imortal. Este caminho estará sempre e inquestionavelmente à minha frente, e sei-o porque as provações assim o permitem. Outros caminhos desejo e desejarei abrir e percorrer com toda a mágica subtileza de quem os descobre e os explora como se fosse o primeiro caminho encontrado...como se de um trunfo se tratasse, com todo o seu encanto.

Egomet

A Lua....

Esta noite a lua chora, as nuvens foram raptadas por um anjo que as ofereceu a alguém especial. O vento chora, sente a falta das companheiras de viagem, as nuvens. A lua continua a chorar, falta-lhe a sublimação, a integração cósmica, não é capaz de expulsar a matéria, por isso o espírito se encontra atormentado. A lua deseja ardentemente o transcendente, o antimaterialismo, deseja a permanência do crepúsculo, repugna o amanhecer e toda a sua cristaleza. Vagos contornos desta lua, que recorda noites remotas, palavras de lamento a ela confessadas....noites de solidão com elas partilhadas, uma constelação de vivências, as palpitações sentidas por quem tem a lua como confidente. As sensações rasgadas pelas cordas da harpa que embala a noite, que embala a lua, que embala o ser que comunica com a lua. A lua produz apenas leves suspiros, usa a máscara que lhe permite encobrir as mágoas, esquecendo-as quando o ser lhe confessa as suas...a lua é esta e todas as noites a confidente almejada. A lua que permite que gemidos, prantos, mágoas, pseudo-harmonias se esvaneçam ao som de uma harpa incoerentemente melancólica, nostálgica. O ser anseia pelo silêncio da lua, pelo som da harpa, e eis que é tudo o que ecoa no seu espírito atormentado. O mistério do silêncio da lua transcende o silêncio do apaziguante mar, das suas ondas cristalinas. O mar permite que as almas voem, a lua prende-as a ela, ao seu silêncio, sendo a prisão colossal e abandonada nesta noite.

Egomet

Simbolismo...

Se tivesse que escolher a corrente poética que mais me apaixona, que mais me seduz, inequivocamente e sem sombra de dúvida, escolheria o Simbolismo...sobretudo por nos permitir extrapolar tudo o que é aceitável, tudo o que está pré-concebido, tudo o que é pura e simplesmente aceite. Jacinto Prado Coelho define-o como «escola ou corrente poética (...) que se afirma sobretudo entre 1890 e 1915 e que se define por um conjunto de aspectos, aliás variáveis de autor para autor, que dizem respeito às atitudes perante a vida, à concepção da arte literária, aos motivos e ao estilo.(...) Serão simbolistas os poetas que participam de todas, ou quase todas, as seguintes características: reviviscência do gosto romântico do vago, do nebuloso, do impalpável; amor da paisagem esfumada e melancólica, outoniça ou crepuscular; visão pessimista da existência, cuja efemeridade é dolorosamente sentida; temática do tédio e da desilusão; distanciamento do Real, egotismo aristocrático, e subtil análise de cambiantes sensoriais e afectivos; repúdio do lirismo de confissão directa, ao modo romântico, expansivo e oratório, e preferência pela sugestão indecisa de estados de alma abstraídos do contexto biográfico, impersonalizados; larga utilização, não só do símbolo tipicamente simbolista, polivalente e intraduzível, mas da alegoria, da imagem a que deliberada e claramente se confere um valor simbólico, da comparação expressa ou implícita, da sinestesia, da imagem simplesmente decorativa;(...) musicalidade que não se reduz ao jogo de sonoridades do verso, antes, como observa Marcel Raymond, se prolonga em ressonância interior até para além da leitura do texto; libertação de ritmos...;».
(in Dicionário de Literatura, pgs.1026 e 1027)

Egomet

Brompton Oratory...

"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvellous structure of reality."

Edmund Burke

"Be brave enough to live life creatively. The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. You can’t get there by bus, only by hard work and risk and by not quite knowing what you are doing. What you’ll discover will be wonderful. What you’ll discover will be yourself."

Alan Alda

Egomet

Lado a lado...escuro e luar

Palavras...leva-as o vento...são simultaneamente a minha salvação e a minha perdição...pecado e virtude. Pecado o facto de não as pronunciar oralmente, virtude por as escrever....sabendo que me preenche esta atitude...que sem ela me sentiria ainda mais incompleta.
O vento já não passa aqui...sinto falta do vento para levar todas as minhas palavras. O vento...o tempo..tantas vezes desordenados..fogem para locais longe da minha vista, longe do meu coração, longe da minha mente, longe do meu ser. Condensaria eu o tempo e o vento num único momento final interminável. Senti-los-ia de forma única, peculiar, trivial...a trivialidade dever-se-ia ao facto de ser inequivocamente um desejo realizado...concebido de forma única e jamais por mim experenciada..... incoerentemente reproduzível.
O meu vento, o meu momento, o meu tempo...nada disto é verosímil..aquilo que concebo como meu não o é. Consiste apenas numa partícula, numa metonímia de tudo aquilo que me rodeia, que me absorve, que eu absorvo, que me respira, que eu respiro, que eu transpareço, que me transparece.
Surpreendentemente não desejo que o vento leve as minhas palavras, mas sim que as torne inesquecíveis e dignas de uma nostalgia insustentável por mim vivenciada....por isso vou lutar enquanto forças tiver...até porque são estas mesmas palavras que me dão força para por elas pugnar. Simplesmente palavras...mas no fundo são para mim dotadas de uma essência própria e não permutável....são de forma estranha e inexplicável aquilo que sinto...aquilo que me vai na alma. Ainda que não possua o dom da escrita as futilidades que escrevo fazem-me sentir mais leve...por vezes quase uma insustentável leveza....e talvez por isso deseje incessantemente ter tempo para as escrever.
Se num momento dentro de mim sinto que apenas existe um abismo...a escrita transforma-o numa praia ao fim do dia....em que a luz natural esverdeará ainda mais os meus olhos e permitir-me-á ver tudo mais claro...mais límpido...mais cristalino...abolindo o que de mais gelado e escuro observo dentro de mim...deixando por isso de ser um anjo perdido...passando a ser um anjo que se encontrou a ele próprio...que encontrou o caminho que por tanto procurava....como uma demanda incompletamente cumprida.

Egomet

Bedeutung

External world and its sense….its creation…the creation of sense…..anyone can create it…as well as “anyone can play guitar”, and I believe anyone can create a meaning to a Camilo Pessanha’s poem (obviously it will vary from reader to reader, but that’s how poetry is!).
How do I perceive my own words? In a psycholinguistic perspective, probably as parts of my mental dictionary (computational metaphor), but the way they are perceived by others….probably as part of an encyclopaedia because they are differently perceived by each reader. The way I change my mood in different situations makes me feel stupid..makes me feel strong…makes me feel I got something I don’t know what it is…I perceive my own ideas and words sometimes in a wrong way! (How ridiculous it is when we establish misconceptions about ourselves!)
I could simply whisper…or I could simply start shouting….someone would create a meaning to my behaviour…it is stronger than ourselves….Even the absurd has a meaning….and laughing at it is even more meaningful!
Which is the value of my linguistic signs, which is the meaning of their contents, how do I form a lexical field in my mental dictionary….which are my definitions….I am not thinking only about the way I use language…but also the way this use influences all my thoughts, all my perceptive system. Where is the origin of meaning…do we bake it the way we bake a cake? Do we reach it the way birds make a nest? Do we establish it the way butterflies search for flowers? I know for sure that it is impossible to taste the meaning of things taking them as particular events….isolated events make no sense….only unifying these events makes sense…and probably that’s how we create meanings. Believing they do not simply exist….makes me search for them..not only when I use and perceive language…but also in non-linguistic events. The way meanings are created is amazing….I can simply stand still observing the sunset and even with an absence of words it has a meaning my perceptive system computes…encodes…stores…stimulates my being…my soul..my body and my mind. This is an isolated meaning..because I am the only one who is perceiving the moment this way…the only one who is constructing a given meaning to a given moment, probably already experienced by most human beings. Thus, I paraphrase Nietzsche’ words…Who speaks? Words themselves? Or those who use these words?
We can speak and, even so, sometimes those produced words have no meaning at all. So many times I use the wrong words to express my thoughts….when I want to express them! Words must be produced in order to transmit the meaning we want them to have…they do not speak by themselves, I believe! That’s why we use metaphors…and its amazing consequence is the wonderful world of flying meanings!
Running through the paths of my being…running through the amazingly stupid worries…I realize the meaning I create for them is completely meaningless. Sometimes even my words are meaningless…Do I create meanings for my worries…or they already have meanings? I believe this is the same as in language, in the use of words…I create my worries’ meanings….and that’s why sometimes they seem so absurd…because I am the only one who creates them this way.

Egomet

Busy Times....

Without time to write something else, I simply leave two quotes I truly appreciate....I think about them...but I have no time to translate my thoughts to written language....

”He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
Friedrich Nietzsche

“The perfect normal person is rare in our civilization”
Karen Horney


Egomet

Moments

How can I feel this moment….I just close my eyes….I listen to the sound….feel all that I want….feel this moment….this pleasant moment….I want to scream…I want to jump….I want to have fun….I want to dance the all night….I want to talk (amazingly it is true!) till the moment someone tells me to shut my mouth down! Why am I writing all these things???!!!
Music is something spiritual, is part of the body, of our soul. Through music we feel free. I never thought I get to this point I my life…emotions run like a town….I don’t know if something would ever return…but I am the one who will decide if something will return or not….a few things happen because we make them happen….
I don’t want some things to be repeated….I prefer to have them in my memory…I don’t know quite sure why…but I prefer things this way….
Getting this point in my life….when all that I want is to absorb everything around me….getting absorbed by what surrounds me….going with the wind…tasting the wind and all of its advantages and disadvantages….
I perceive disadvantages as those unexpected things with which I don’t know how to deal….but they teach me so much, that I am not even able to say that I don’t want them…
Obviously I am happy for being alive…for being inconsistent, but sometimes I would like to make my thoughts come true….and I am referring to the sentence where I say I want to talk…so many times I want…but I feel I am not able…it seems I have glue on my lips…and they do not move the way I want. I think this is probably one of my ghosts (I know sometimes I am the one who does not want to speak…but sometimes when I want to do it I feel I am not able….a punishment probably!). Something for my mind, my body, and my soul…. it’s the power around curiosity….the purpose…my journey of force….with no limits or boundaries….that’s what I want to reach…the point of greatest intensity…pleasures of the highest senses….feelings of security….sensations wanted and unwanted….
For those who know me this seems senseless because I look like a very peaceful girl…who does not want movement…who does not want to be shaken…but that’s not true….I just don’t show exactly the way I am….sometimes I want this…but than I want it differently….inconsistency at the highest level…sometimes it is good, but not all the time….sometimes I hurt myself for being this way….I know which are my goals….what I change are the paths to attain them….that’s where my inconsistency appears….I fight for what I want, but not always it seems I am doing it.

Egomet

Where I would like to be....

I would like to be in the beach, running in the sand, near the sea, feeling sand on my feet, tasting sea water in my mouth, breathing a fresh sea air, feeling the sunset, feeling free, feeling like a feather flowing. The sunset on the beach inspires me amazingly...I get stronger, I feel things in a different way, everything becomes easier (even if it is only in my mind!). Moments as this one I am describing....I feel them as wonderful and personal episodes of my life...and my memory functions allow me to store and recall them whenever I want, mainly when I have no time to repeat them....like I am doing at the moment. I am performing a written recall test. Simultaneously I recall all the meaningful material, all those things that awake my learning ability in dimensions and modalities of my memory.

Why do I integrate such information this way? Probably because most of the times meaningful things are easily retained. However, from all the meaningful things, not all of them are recalled within the same dimension...because some are more painful than others. That's funny when we try to "cover" the worst ones, living intensely all the good memories...all the pleasant moments, even when they teach us less than the bad ones.

It is good to recall some of these moments together with our friends. However, when I go to the beach yo have some introspection moments, I prefer to go alone, I feel my inspiration differently, I float, I fly, I cry, I laugh, I run, I walk, and I feel my mind, my soul....I feel me so peaceful, that's hard to explain. I simply feel fine!

Even so, I can't do this everyday...I cannot argue for something that's not possible to reach...a completely peaceful spirit, body and soul...A peaceful being! I argue for what's possible...some peaceful moments. That's why we taste them differently..that's why they are so meaningful!

Egomet

Time wings

I would like to overtly see where my time flies to, how does it fly, its velocity, its intensity.
In a fascinating way I feel the time wings absorb my ideas, my arguments in favour of my ideas. In a ridiculous way I would like someone to paint me, not physically, but psychologically…to paint my inner part, without all my disguises (my “mascaras”), without all the walls. It would be like a short story, like an unpleasant, but simultaneously pleasant sensation…it would be like when we try to see the sun in the middle of several grey clouds walking in the sky, but it does not show up.
The painting I am referring to would be as truthful as possible. But who would be able of using a paintbrush to do it? Probably no one….only myself….it is supposed we know ourselves, thus I will have to be the painter…I already am…but I do not use a paintbrush…I use a pen…
Even so…someday I will try to do it with a paintbrush.


Egomet

Saturday Night (An amazing one!)

I could simply say that Saturday night was an amazing one….
As expected…the night started in Glorioso’s stadium with 3 friends from Algarve, where the emotions were too strong to be described…I am lucky for not having any heart disease! Yesterday I was almost voiceless…a consequence of Saturday night craziness!
After the game..walking in Lisbon streets was a great sensation…a great number of people commemorating the same thing….it seems things were felt in a different way…it moves the city…it moves people…lots of people…including myself. It made me remember New Year’s Evening!
Obviously after the game I could not go home…I was unable to do such a thing…and I went to Bairro Alto with friends from Lisbon….lots of alcohol (I was simply drunk!) and lots of cigarettes (as usual!). A long time ago I didn’t have a night as this one!
Details of the night are unnecessary…because what matters is the final product…and this one was 100% perfect!

Egomet

Joyful feelings…

This post was written two days ago, but I forgot to publish it…Even so the feelings remain.

Looking at the blue sky, where clouds dance….listening to birds sounds…it makes me laugh. I do not appreciate spring for several reasons, but simultaneously there are other reasons that pleasure me, that make me feel less cloudy. The sunlight is obviously better than a dark sky, full of grey clouds. There is some incoherence in my words, but that’s what happens when I hear Pete Tha Zouk’s sounds….I do not appreciate house music, but there is one that truly touches my feelings. It transports me to a level of sublimation…stability….like a volcano ready to erupt…like a bullet ready to be expelled from a gun. I truly love to dance…more in private, but if I hear this sound outside of my room I dance anyway…I feel so secure of myself…so me…so so so. I am laughing overtly while writing this because almost all the time I criticize my sister music preferences, and those of a few friends, but this music is completely different….it unables me to criticize those who listen only House Music. I feel I need to render myself to the evidences….and to change a bit my criticism (although sometimes it is not overt…but that’s a trace of myself…probably a bad one…but what can I do…I must accept myself, even when others criticize me for my acts or absence of acts).

Egomet

I would like to….

Gostaria eu de ser poeta para poder elevar-me a um nível que desta forma jamais atingirei. Gostaria eu de ser capaz de condensar o infinito num único e inesquecível momento por acabar. Gostaria eu de estabelecer uma harmonia entre o meu corpo, o meu espírito e a minha alma. Gostaria eu de amar perdidamente, mas uma mentira seria. Gostaria eu de encontrar a minha voz, muitas vezes ausente. Porquê?
Porque tenho medo e os outros não, porque me calo e os outros não, porque não me conheço...ou melhor, porque desprezo o que conheço. Gostaria eu de me deixar levar pela harmonia de um pôr-do-sol à beira mar. Gostaria de me deixar levar pelo poder das ondas do mar. Gostaria de viver tão livre como o vento, de caminhar acima das águas do oceano, de um lago imenso, e de sobrevoar todos os mistérios embalados na minha existência.

Egomet

Érgon

All literary genres are an imitation…and according to Aristotle, imitation is something intrinsic to human beings. This imitation occurs in all arts, namely an imitation of the rhythm, language, harmony. It does not mean these aspects have to coexist….they can occur separately. Although there are a lot of similarities between literary genres, there are always obvious differences. This is what happens with human beings: similarities and plenty of differences. The question is why the similarities are established…differences are easier to define, but similarities are incredibly difficult to delineate. Amazingly tragedy is the most complete imitation, although we all prefer, most of the times, to read a comedy. Tragedy is the imitation of a complete action, with completeness and grandiosity. However, not all complete things have grandiosity. What is a complete concept, thing? Probably something that has all the expected parts intrinsically connected. When Aristotle talks about this he makes reference to the beautiful…one of the most abstract concepts we deal with (at least is my point of view). Something beautiful is, according to Aristotle, all the parts ordered and their grandiosity. But how can we perceive it, if sometimes words are not enough…concepts are not able to define something? Establishing an analogy with human life….beauty is something transmitting grandiosity and order. Thus, “small” and disorganized people are not beautiful. However, “big” and “organized” isn’t, as well, beautiful. This would look like perfection, and this does not exist. Probably we should establish a practical deadline of all these dichotomies. We must absorb the whole set…the whole group of parts…because when they are divided they make no sense. That’s why when we read a book…and we like it….we need to read it till the end. Mainly because, unfortunately, it is the whole thing that matters…there are details not considered for most people. Different details perceived by different people in different moments.
Completeness and unity are difficult concepts…they are focused when someone refers to a poetic unit, but since literature is imitation of human acts….it means that one single human being action does not have, necessarily, to constitute a unity. When imitation is the goal…the poet must search for complete and united actions…and simply these ones. What a difficult task it would be if literature was exactly a true imitation of reality!

Egomet

The Devil and the Angel...

"Conceber o Diabo como um partidário do Mal e o Anjo como um combatente do Bem é aceitar a demagogia dos anjos. As coisas são evidentemente mais complicadas. Os anjos não são partidários do Bem, mas de uma Criação Divina. O Diabo é, pelo contrário, aquele que recusa ao mundo divino qualquer significado racional. O domínio do mundo (...) é partilhado por anjos e demónios. No entanto, o bem do mundo não implica que os anjos tenham vantagem sobre os demónios (...), mas que os poderes de uns e outros estejam mais ou menos em equilíbrio."

Kundera, M. O Livro do Riso e do Esquecimento. pág. 60

Egomet

Missing.....

Almost a month ago I wrote a post entitled “Nostalgia” and today I feel the same. Although I have other friends there is one I miss a lot, and there no possible way of communication with him because he is dead. I feel that I am not able to forget or avoid how I miss him. Everyone has a few lights in life, and one of my lights was him. In the present moment I see everything a bit dark, because one of my lights is missing. I don’t know how will I solve this “problem”….I am not strong enough, not even after almost six years. We are all so different from each other, that I do not believe that someday I will find someone like him. For the first time in my life, sincerely, written language does not allow me to express what I feel, all the pain I have been carrying along these years. Probably I am too weak, because I am not able to deal with the loss of someone I was close to. And I admit that this is one of my ghosts….he is not the ghost, but I am my own ghost! Nothing stops me to talk with him, but I have not his answers, and this is what I need.

Egomet

Movement...

"All mankind can do is to move things...whether whispering a syllable or feeling a forest." Sherrington

Egomet

Mad Season

“(...) todos os seres humanos aspiram desde sempre ao idílio, a esse jardim em que cantam os rouxinóis, a esse reino de harmonia em que o mundo não se ergue como estranho contra o homem e o homem contra os outros homens, mas em que o mundo e todos os homens estão, pelo contrário, amalgamados na mesma e única matéria. Aí cada um é uma nota de uma sublime fuga de Bach, e aquele que não quiser sê-lo passa a ponto negro inútil e privado de sentido, que basta agarrar e esmagar sob a unha como uma pulga.(...)”
In Kundera, M. (1988). O Livro do Riso e do Esquecimento. pág. 12.


Why do we always want/desire what we cannot achieve…the impossible??!! Sometimes we desire something real, but simultaneously impossible (how I wish to be wrong!). Other times we desire impossible and unreal things… I don’t know for sure which of these two things I desire (real and impossible vs impossible and unreal). I suppose my desire is real but impossible. Unreal would be fighting against it. Thus, I believe it is, even unconsciously, both real and unreal…because I desire and I fight against my desire…even if the fight is completely and shamefully fake. Day after day I realize I think too much, and a catastrophe is the most obvious consequence.

Although I know I will never walk alone…sometimes I refuse to think in such an optimistic perspective. Why I do this???!!!! I don’t know for sure, but probably is to avoid suffering…sometimes pessimism is better than optimism. It might seem I am going mad, but I don’t mind…we all carry some madness, ones more than others. But my madness (there might be another concept to define me…but I just don’t know which is) remains only in my mind…and on the words I write every day. Should I exteriorize all my madness???!!! Sometimes I want, or I don’t want, or I think I should want but then I realize I don’t want…and sometimes I want to do not know what I want….I complicate the most simple things…yes….the most simple and natural human things.

The fact is that when my body and my eyes are standing still…this is simply a fake inertia…my mind is running a marathon through the gardens of the imaginary…thoughts…desires…so many other things that no one would ever imagine. It seems, most of the time, that I am not listening people who talk to me…but that’s not true…I hear everything. I just don’t show I am listening. I am a good listener…and I speak only when I want to. There is an external silence…but an amazing internal noise. That’s how I am. I don’t like to speak only because people are expecting me to speak…I speak when I want to (not always…but most of the times). Amazingly I want to write all the time…I am not lazy when I have a pen on my hand and a notebook in front of me. I love to talk through the amazing clouds of written language…such a magic way of communication…more magic than written language, only the communication through the eyes.

Egomet…and the voice of emotion (she stills speaking)

Higher Love

I would like to try walking in somebody else’s shoes, to feel with somebody else’s skin, to breath in a body other than mine, to let somebody else breath using my body, to attain my favourite consciousness, my favourite innocence, my favourite smile, to feel lost, to find my perfect imperfect path…
I wish I had already found the other half of my soul (MY REASON IS NOT SPEAKING TODAY…I ABOLISHED IT DURING A FEW MOMENTS…WHILE WRITING THIS POST). I think I found, but, as always I am afraid of myself, because I don’t know how to act. I feel less heavy due to the fact that I was able to do this, less heavy, more human, more woman, more adolescent, more inconsistent, more alive.

However…I don’t know whether this is possible….how will I know if what I feel is right…is fair…where is the reason in my feelings? There is no reason today…I was able to abolish it during a few moments, as I said before.

I desire to be unable to hide my feelings…although sometimes it is good to hide our feelings, most of the times it is bad….Fuck!!!!!!!!!….why I am not fighting against myself?!!!!!! Why am I unable to surrender to the obvious without being obvious? (Sorry for my words…but I couldn’t avoid saying it).

This is a difficult step…..I will write down something I have been refusing to admit….I need love, as any other human being…I need physical contact (although I refuse it almost all the time)…

I don’t know how to explain what’s going on with me…I feel like if I was going to explode….I hear a voice inside my brain…my mind is working in order to help me to understand what is the voice saying….This voice disturbs me, I want to get rid of it, but I am not able…it is almost screaming that I must do something, but it does not tell me what. I know I must do something...but I don’t know what to do…how to behave…what to think…what to say…
I need to write stupid things today…nothing makes sense…I cannot think in things that make sense…I am completely senseless…

I wish I could be flying now, feeling free, not worried about my behaviours…feelings…thoughts…words….desires…needs….inhibitions…fears. But is too late to be flying (it is 3 in the morning)…I will try to do it during my dreams (I don’t know if I will have time to dream enough, but…)…I just don’t know how many time my dreams are not the way I want them to be….My dreams never help me…they complicate my resolutions…at least those I am able to remember.
Sometimes I dream about absurd things…absurd for me, because for most people they are just perfect. I believe the problem resides in my superego, because if I was able to abolish it, by now one of my doubts was already solved…or not…I could be saying by now whether it is, or no, good to abolish my superego. But by now I don’t know it…because I never did it…

Lots of words and no meaning at all……..No capacity of synthesis….What a bad post!!!! Only to say that today I let my Emotion speak.
Sorry for making you read such a bad post, senseless, too basic…That’s why I prefer to let my Reason speak…she explains things much better, more coherent, consistent, etc. But sometimes Emotion must have the right to speak by herself…and that’s what I did today.

Egomet and the Voice of Emotion