سلام

“If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”

می خوانیم که چگونه دولت توتالیتر، در تمام زوایای زندگی خصوصی مردم نفوذ می کند و همه آنان، حتی پرصلابت ترینشان یا در برابر ستم پیشگان، سر به خاک ذلت می سایند و یا در دفاع از آدمیت خویش جان می بازند.
مولر راوی سرگذشت ملتی است که فساد و صبوری در اعماق مغز و روانشان ریشه بسته است.

So, today we are too alive to die and too dead to live.

The darkness exists on two levels. One, at the edges of society, where the law ceases to care and men drift aimlessly. Two, internally. The darkness at the edge of town in this sense is personal as well–at the edges, around the seams of everyone there is a darkness being held at bay by the internal architecture they have built up in their lives.

I am I, and I wish I weren't.

Those butterflies in my stomach are dead now.

Me: I don't have self-confidence.
Also me:

"the pain is so great it outweighs my pleasure. and with every step forward pleasure dissolves and pain intensifies behind me."

We all have our demons. We all have our reasons to fight. We all have our reasons to give everything up. Don’t blame us for any of that.

I'm addicted to escapism

Ive always been a horrible procrastinator and had a really hard time focusing and doing things that I know will improve my life. I need a huge amount of downtime. My brain just never shuts up. So im constantly anxious and worried and driving myself insane so I try to distract myself in any way possible for as long as i humanly can and still accomplish what needs to be done to not be a total waste of life.

It is astounding how I have systematically destroyed myself in the course of years, it was like a slowly widening breach in a dam, a purposeful action. The spirit that brought it about must now be celebrating triumphs…

Franz Kafka, The diaries: 1910-1923

After a while of being holed up in the darkness of your own making, you become numb to everything that happens around you. Good news are only good as long as it takes you to realise that they pave the way to more bad news. A smile only stays as long as it takes a frown to catch up. Even when a little burst of kindness comes your way, you think you can’t possibly be deserving of it. That there must have been a mistake, some kind of wrongness, a bend in time and space. You might be afraid: this darkness is what you know. You have learned your way around it. You know how to navigate it with your eyes closed, with your feelings on hold. You think that things don’t last, that they never do, and that this is the way of things. You claw at your skin because you are desperate to let the light in, but the cracks in your body are filled up with bitterness, impenetrable. Or so you think. You think that it is impossible to escape from this prison - whether it was you or someone else who put up the bars. You might feel like you can't move on, that you can never leave the darkness behind you.