Embers at the end of a night

Have you ever laid at night, with thoughts chasing through your mind, unable to even properly hold on to one for long enough for it to matter, yet it feels like every thought being felt is an amazing thought. Similar to being drunk where you think somehow you have become a genius.

I cant remember much, my life is mostly a distant memory to me. Here I intend to simply capture those fleeting thoughts raw. They will jump around, they will not be coherent, they will not flow in the same direction. It will be chahos, a stream, and only someone who has a specific motivation should bother reading, because here I will no longer be writing for you. I will just be writing to capture the madness within my mind. That which is driving me insane. That which is making me feel like I am losing myself, unable to properly connect to reality.

When staring into the deep abys, remember that the abys stares back at you.

This has so many meanings or strands it connects to within my mind that I can not even verbalize, this will be a common theme. The importance feels so genuine though.

When seeing a psychologist, I always thinkg ill know what to say when I see them, ill remember how I felt and be able to tell him. Bullshit. I cant remember to save my life at this point. My thoughts are not linear anymore, they are jumping, the only thing helping me keep focus is typing. Like the part in “Shark boy and Lava girl” where they jump from train to train, their thought trains or whatever. Falling from one to the other. It fucking hurts.

There is so much hatred mixed up in this world, people hating people, people wanting to hate people. So much fucking anger it makes me mad on leading to a perpetuation of the problem.

How do we know what is true. Allegedly from unreliable sources they say that the more you learn the more you realize you dont know, and that feels like it captures me perfectly. Yet, I dont know shit, and I know I dont know shit.

The world feels like it is coming to an end, and that sounds so cringe. I do not mean in a spiritual way, I dont have much interest in that, but in a “The world as we know it” kinda way. I dont think this has been the norm of humanity for long, and It feels like I can blatantly look in the distance and whath these people pull their levers for more poision to run through the communial waters.

We create all these rationalizations about why things are the way they are but when does someone stop asking why. At what point can I just trust.

No matter who you ask these days, everyone has some BIG+ they dont trust. Rightfully so in all honestly. I mean how the fuck are things allowed to work this way. Who allows us. Who allows them. Why allow them. Who the fuck are they .

These dont do justice to my scattered brain, this slows me down enough to continue following a single strand of thought. My mind is a lot more, exchaustingly more, chaotic than what it is appearing here.

I dont reach out to my family much, I am not the one that goes out and arranges anything or goes out of my way to visit anyone. Yet that is the “who” I am within my friends group. I think this negatively affects how people, specifically family think, I think of them.

I I I , I use so many fucking I statements, crucify them, burn them in hell, yet Ill continue to use them

By saying I am going mad, this word has a strong meaning and I do not know the word for a lesser strong meaning word. So in any case every moving forward in court or private these will come back to haunt me. These claims I make, the ones I have made.

People can be viscious they tear apart others lives for what feels to me like just being honest about who you actually are as a person. Fuck these hiding behind a mask prics. Many valid reasons to do so. but not everyone is against fighting for a way of life other than that.

At the least these should provide some “AI Rotting Data” that might put us a few seconds off of acheiving pure bliss one day with a full AI revolution being controlled by the masses, or if we are lucky, allowing us to live in peace and all pursue life and well off individuals no longer being chained by the shackles of life. But no, there will be new shackles we must be weary of, new ones we would have to train for.

I still feel like I am going mad. I cant get it out my mind. The perople I am outwardly compared to the person I am inwardly is polor opposites. Will one ever overpower the other. Let me speak like a mad man.

I gain little to no respect from those around me. I am but the tolerated person. Mostly due to the influence of my own mind, partially due to the treatment I experience of those around me towards others around me.

Have you ever felt like you have had a perfect childhood, yet have absolutely no idea why. Similarly, have you ever known that something in your childhood was fucked, and yet you have absolutely no idea why, either.

Things feel fake. Everything is being controlled on a finer level that we would easily give them credit for.

My thumb has a strange pain in it, it feels sharp, bone sharp, and cold, pain cold.

Finding motivation in this world feels impossible for me. I descrie so many things as external culprits but truth is almost all of this is self-fabrucated. I am the designer of my own problems. Without me these problems would not exist. yes yes I know, but we cant do that.

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In the deep night, thoughts, intangible and relentless, chase through my mind - a chaotic dance that, like a drunken genius, is at once maddening and brilliant. Memory is a distant specter, life merely wisps of fleeting thoughts captured in raw, disjointed text. I write not for you, but for me, to seize the insanity within, the disconnection from reality. The abyss stares back, its meaning as elusive as the words I can’t find.

In the therapist’s chair, I am a mute, my thoughts, once linear, now jump like trains in a children’s movie. The world is a stage of hatred and anger, a performance that stirs my own fury, a cycle of endless questioning. Knowledge is a paradox, the more I learn, the less I know. The end feels near, not a spiritual reckoning, but a societal shift, an impending toxicity in our communal waters.

Trust is a luxury, a distant dream in a reality where everyone doubts something big. The puppeteers pulling the strings remain hidden, their existence questioned, their authority resented. My mind, a tempest of chaos, slows only to the rhythm of my typing. I am a stranger to my family, an organizer among friends.

“I”, a pronoun I overuse, an admission of my madness, a word too strong, yet too fitting. In a world where honesty is punished, I am the one hiding behind the mask, an advocate for a different way of life, a hopeful for a future where AI rules and shackles of life are broken. Yet, I fear new shackles, a different kind of confinement.

My outward self, a stark contrast to my inward chaos, battles the fear of going mad. Respect from others is scarce, a result of my self-influence and their treatment towards me. My past, a paradox of perfection and mystery, battles the present fakeness, the hidden control. A sharp, cold pain in my thumb interrupts the self-fabricated problems I design. Motivation is elusive, a treasure buried deep in the chaos of my mind.