tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49300795483905093412024-10-23T23:34:37.345-07:00All the strange, and twisted, and terrible, and wonderful things I have discovered once I have finally started thinking about life.Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-523054022169081882013-02-14T05:48:00.002-08:002013-02-14T05:48:50.528-08:00

And I should probably write about how it’s silly to spend one day showering a loved one with attention if you don’t do it the other 364 days. Or perhaps I should write about the importance of love and chocolate in our daily lives. Or be all activist about it and write about how it’s a stupid made up corporate invention, aimed at making you buy shit you don’t need because they told you to. The

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-43603582827687043442013-01-23T12:56:00.003-08:002013-01-23T13:14:31.398-08:00

I landed on a forest clearing; it was right in the middle of the woods, the woods were right in the middle of what the new part of the world considered the old part of the world. The ancient part of the world was too tired or too wise to argue. The planet seemed strange and beautiful. Everything seemed new and I had no recollection of where I came from and no idea where I was headed, so I

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-31939120420060508502007-12-19T10:09:00.000-08:002007-12-19T10:43:01.964-08:00

Don't do it. Don't make reality more real and more important than it really is. It doesn't really matter. The job you do, the car you drive, the house you live in, your bank account balance, it doesn't really matter. It's not you. So don't give it too much credit.Stop worrying about it.It's not that important. You know that it isn't, but you chose to delude yourself - throw your brain a little

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-23483955552021130442007-12-16T12:31:00.000-08:002007-12-16T13:03:14.302-08:00

We have all felt it. At least once in our lives. The urge to push someone around. To hurt them, at least a little bit. I know that we all think that we are essentially nice people who don't do things like that, but there is always at least this one guy - we all know him, he's just so, so, so - asking for it. Begging to be pushed around, begging to be bullied.No mater how sad, and pathetic, and

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-42483139634608118042007-12-15T01:35:00.001-08:002007-12-15T06:00:22.649-08:00

Every moment of our life we are dieing. We all know it. Every second we have lived is one second less left on our life savings. What we fail to realize is that us dieing isn't just a natural process caused by the passing of time.We do it to ourselves. Day by day we kill off little parts of ourselves, hoping to achieve... What?Today, you decide to become a victim, hoping to get some sympathy,

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-88064591945004220772007-12-11T14:08:00.000-08:002007-12-15T06:01:08.079-08:00

You are enjoying it. Every time you frown, every time you sigh, every salty tear you shed, deep, deep down inside, you are enjoying it.It makes you feel deep. It makes you feel sorry for yourself. It makes you feel good and kind. It makes you feel anything.You are enjoying it. Every insult, every boring job you take, every time you feel so stressed out and tiered you feel like you are simply

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-57063550925178075032007-12-11T14:06:00.001-08:002007-12-15T06:02:53.189-08:00

We stumble trough your lives, our eyes closed tight, begging – guide me, describe me, define me.Define me! It’s complete and utter madness. We read horoscopes. We go to psychoanalysts. We read books. We watch movies about people like us, or about the people we wish to be. We listen real hard when our friends are talking about us.Define me! It’s not even mad. It’s plain stupid. How can anyone else

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-33700599454822705602007-12-11T14:05:00.002-08:002013-01-23T13:07:57.861-08:00

Looking for love? Why? Because you have this giant hole inside your chest, and you’ve tried to fill it with food, and clothes, and cars, and art, and it didn’t work, so now you figured that another person might do the trick. Are you insane? Do you really think that people can cure you of loneliness? Loneliness has nothing to do with just being alone. Loneliness is about not liking your own

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-87244731111374096032007-12-11T14:05:00.001-08:002013-01-23T13:06:32.272-08:00

You don’t need it. What ever it is you are planning on buying – you don’t need it. You don’t need a new TV. Or a new car. Or the lovely little coffee table, or a new pair of shoes, or a pink shirt. You don’t need it. It’s just crap. It piles up taking over your life, and it won’t make you happy, so don’t spend your money on it. You don’t need energy drinks, energy bars, bad coffee, chips, fast

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-12126545870164351562007-12-11T14:04:00.002-08:002007-12-16T13:15:58.884-08:00

Our world seems to work on the twisted principle of precedents. If the same thing happens a large number of times, it becomes normal. It even becomes good. If not good, than not bad. That is simply sick.For example: millions of people are doing jobs they don’t like. We all know it. We think it’s sad, but we won’t do anything to stop it. It’s sad, but it is normal. It’s not. It’s not normal. It’s

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4930079548390509341.post-17801150413289454652007-12-11T14:04:00.001-08:002013-01-23T13:02:14.700-08:00

How did I start writing these strange and disturbing things? I'm not shure. I guess I was bored out of my mind and had no choice but to start thinking. At first, the things that would come to mind were nice, kind of comforting. I figured out that this world is big enough for me to enjoy living in it, and that I am the sole creator of my destiny, and that misery isn't necessary. That was great. I

Old Miseryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955307347908220772noreply@blogger.com0