I feel hopelessly lost. Even in my optimism, which knows no bound, I am rarely moved. Happiness, love, friendship, are always held close to me, but usually as ideas and abstracts rather than actions. They are felt and treasured, but hardly experienced. I do not often break free of myself enough for that. Nor am I at all disappointed by that. I find more meaning in their scarcity insofar that I'd rather dwell upon a single memory that is purely joyful, than to create scores of similar memories that seem to become noise, clutter almost, to the mind as I try to think back on them. It is confusing, to say the least, and I have much trouble in my expression of it. Perhaps I lack the vocabulary for these feelings, but I've explored far and I fear that language may be in wanting for the vocabulary of it. It's like a happy lost, if I should deign to put it so simply. A feeling of never wanting to be found, while also yearning to remain close enough to others such that I might not be held by loneliness. But I digress.

One more thing...

Immerse yourself. Doesn't matter in what or how; you will know your ocean when you see it.

08/13/2015
05/15/2016
10/28/2017 (Removed first section)

I had something to say once, but now it feels trivial. The world is one where speech and action are but the opposing masks of the same meaningless gesture. Tell me, what is it that one can hope to gain from such an encounter?

That is, you don't write to challenge authority, give hope, or try to enact some sort of change. It is all to create a new world where the old gods, with their odious hierarchies, abusive powers, doublespeak laws, cannot reach.

No wonder then, the charges against us ring so hollow. They talk of how our movement has no goals, aimless to a fault, for they can only think in terms of toppling orders. We have no such militant plans. We've no interest in overthrowing them nor in seizing power. We move to disrupt them. To make useless their strengths.

Theirs is to take power, ours to dissolve it.

2/20/2018
7/9/2018