Written on 3rd of November 2012, Everything written here, is for me back then to become now.

Suicide, it’s what I should do, to get out of this world. It’s my easy step out. Why am I not doing it? Why is it so hard to just get up, get a rope and hang myself? Why do I have to live with this pain and suffering?
Love doesn’t exist. How can it if I don’t? How can there be love when there is enlightenment? Love: such a petty name for an emotional trauma vexed as Fear. Love is the fear of being alone, the fear of being here in this world with no-one to grow old with. Fear of not having someone to reflect me back to myself. The fear of being alone is the fear of not existing.

Non-existence is the only thing that’s there. No self, no truth, a nothing-less reality. Enlightenment?

What a bunch of whore crap. What becomes enlightened? I am enlightenment, I never was anything else. I never was to begin with. Ego and Cancer are the same exact thing. Ego is the fear of being alive in a no-where land thus it manifests a huge spectrum of realities, Scales, Emotions, measurements, start points and end points. Cancer is the fear of death. Death is the only truth that the self can be one hundred percent sure exists. Death is the force that keeps life going on. Cancer manifests in the human mind that is afraid of dying. Cancer manifests itself to create way for life to come back out. Cancer is liberation from ego. Ego is thinking we’re alive.

What aliveness is there? Breathing? Eating and shitting? Is that what it means to be alive? Work? Routinical lives?  Having a family?  Love?

Do any of these mean being alive? I can’t find a single sign that can show me what life is. Not the earth revolving around the sun, not the moon revolving around the earth. All just illusion; a sensory perception, an idea that someone else came up with upon an observation that created itself to be a belief. Science books, Astrology, Physics, all theories based on observations of the apparent reality. What is real about this reality? It being solid?

Is reality watching as my breath goes into my nose and down to my lungs and coming back out in less than half a second? Is that reality? Am I Breathing? I never breathed in my life.

I’ve been being breathed a long time ago. This body has been breathed by something other than me. That something is just me, but there’s no me.

There’s nothing.

I used to think I was in love. I used to think I existed. I used to think I need to write an autolysis. But what’s there to write? Who is there to write? Who will read what I write?

Other than putting out these voices in my head, I wouldn’t be writing right now. A voice says write, another says, kill yourself, another says roll a joint, call a friend, don’t stay at home, masturbate, talk to a friend somewhere over seas, play music. FUCK ALL OF YOU.

I want to be alone. I want nothing.
I want everything, Money, Music, Sex. And I don’t want it. How can I want something and not want it? How can I be alive and dead? How did I get here?

Why am I here? Why is there nothing here? Why is it not satisfactory? Why is it that everything never satisfies me? Why?

Why do I want to masturbate? Why do I want to smoke? Why do I want to feel pleasure? Is that even pleasure? Orgasming, getting high, music, are these all pleasurable things?

I used to like kissing, I used to think being intimate with someone else is emotionally and energetically high. Well, it is not, it’s only a tool by which the ego reflects back upon itself to re-assure itself of its existence.

Consiousness is? Hahahahahaha

Don’t make me laugh, what consciousness? What intelligence? What universe? WAKE UP!

There’s nothing here! Nothing there, and nothing no-where to ever be found.

What are you trying to understand?

Maya, I thought I loved you, until I realized I don’t exist.  There is no love. What you speak of as love, is just basically your fear of being alone. Reading a book to awaken from illusion to know that Even this which speaks holds no context to reality. Even these are just thoughts rushing in my mind. Flowing through these hands. I am not this entity, I am not this reality, the whole universe doesn’t revolve inside me or outside me.

There’s nothing beyond me. No material, no non-material.

I am not empty and I am not full

I cannot be expressed in words

Cuz I am not words.

Even I am, doesn’t talk about what I am.

Damn, what is It then? What are you? What am I? if nothing can point to it, not even being… what is it? Where is it?

Why am I still writing? And what is it that I am trying to write? Why do I talk to people? When I know that deep inside they’re afraid, deep inside they’re living a lie. A lie that everything is ok, that life is nice and it’s going on. Why do I go around creating a profile? In a world that’s not worthy of its own reality, in a world that doesn’t know that it doesn’t exist. A world of no worlds

A world where nothing is sacred or wholly, a world where God never existed, a world where if god existed it allows for wars and children to die, a world full of hate, misery and greed. A world that is fueled by pain and agony, that is the world as we know it today; Run on Fear, By hope, through an illusion that maybe someday if we all change ourselves the world can be a better place.

Look at history, it’ll show you. Never in man’s life time as we know it was the world sacred or wholly. Never was the world a peaceful place. Wars, destruction, ice ages… the cycle goes. It won’t stop. It never will stop. End? There is no end. No end to the beginning because there was never a beginning. It never started. I never existed. I always am and always will be non-existence to the core.

To exist is illusion. To not exist is illusion. Everything around is an illusion. Security. Safety. FEAR

This is the realm of fear. Welcome to hell.

Love is a hellish feeling. I used to love love.

What is this that’s happening to me? Why is everything losing its touch? I know why, but how can this be the reality? How can this be the real life? How can smoking up affect my being the way it does? The witness never gets affected. If I observe I never get high because I am always observing, but why then does moose smoke? Why then am I still writing?

Why am I still thinking? Why do I feel alone? Alone with me and my thoughts, me and my self and no-one else. Why is love falling out of itself away from me? I was love. Was I love? I used to think I am love. Now I think I am the nothingness. What is next? What is after enlightenment? What is after knowing all this? What is after letting it all go? What comes after I burn it all down?

I never thought it could end. how can it? What is it that’s ending?

Music, is it all about music? Is it all just a musical piece playing itself to infinity?

Hahahaha Music. What exists for music to hear it? Why is it getting this complicated? Or this simple?

Theres nothing, after that is music. Hahahaha

Laughing, at my self. Laughing at these lunatic thoughts.

I can feel the nothingness but I still see somethings. I used to think I am unsane.

I used to say that I don’t know that’s why I know, I felt like I knew it all. Life after life, I reach this.

I end up in the nothingness, nothingless life after life.

Sigh; a breath made deep yet tender when the knowing reveals itself that something is falling off.

Falling off itself, dissolving itself into itself. Self to self to self. Where is the no-self? Is it the no self that knows self? Or is it the self that knows the self? I am high.
the joint is affecting me, the music is elevating me.

HAHAH what you? Moron.

I am a moron. A stupid fuck. Like all stupid fucks. I still don’t think I need an autolysis, I c this as going no-where. No-here at all. My mind that I kept feeding has its fist up my ass using me as a puppet. All that’s left is ART.