RE: I Will Reply
11-09-2019, 07:26 AM
Hello, Cent,
I appreciate your reply.
My first name is something that has grown to disgust myself.
Alternatively, you may use another one. I had a friend once who remained on the fringes of many things. In their memory, I took the name Visilit, meaning "boundary walker." So that the memory is kept in our own walks along these boundaries, let us use that name for myself.
It's good to hear that there is plenty out there, interesting and creative things. Being cloistered too often you get the impression that there's not much ever. Though there hasn't been much recently.
A long time ago I also felt the constancy of thought. These days, more and more often, it all fades into a certain silence. Sometimes it is like an animal that has been fed too little, and has decided to lay down for eternal sleep.
Other times small things flit about and demand attention, but I know that they will never be addressed. So I have left them also to rot, and now even the resentment towards myself comes less and less. Without even this tether, would that also be my fate, in the end? Slowly, it's like you fall out of the world.
I wonder if ... something should change. How do you establish footing once again? It's too easy to lose your grip and forget what it's like to really exist, to take comfort
There is so little here. So little about. And the messages that we can exchange, as they are, are little sustenance in that way. The energy that we all use in keeping these connections... how much of that well is dried up with each draw?
Yours,
With good wishes.
I appreciate your reply.
My first name is something that has grown to disgust myself.
Alternatively, you may use another one. I had a friend once who remained on the fringes of many things. In their memory, I took the name Visilit, meaning "boundary walker." So that the memory is kept in our own walks along these boundaries, let us use that name for myself.
It's good to hear that there is plenty out there, interesting and creative things. Being cloistered too often you get the impression that there's not much ever. Though there hasn't been much recently.
A long time ago I also felt the constancy of thought. These days, more and more often, it all fades into a certain silence. Sometimes it is like an animal that has been fed too little, and has decided to lay down for eternal sleep.
Other times small things flit about and demand attention, but I know that they will never be addressed. So I have left them also to rot, and now even the resentment towards myself comes less and less. Without even this tether, would that also be my fate, in the end? Slowly, it's like you fall out of the world.
I wonder if ... something should change. How do you establish footing once again? It's too easy to lose your grip and forget what it's like to really exist, to take comfort
There is so little here. So little about. And the messages that we can exchange, as they are, are little sustenance in that way. The energy that we all use in keeping these connections... how much of that well is dried up with each draw?
Yours,
With good wishes.