The Thing less talked about...

When I see strangers that look nice, and I know that this was the first and last time I’d see them, I feel like writing my story about my different state of consciousness that is on the other side of the emotional spectrum, not the positive one, and I want to enter into a positive state of consciousness, different from the usual ones. The courage of my mind is not merely enough to proceed any further with anything at all, however. And I feel like I have died and I just have the false perception of still living the same life. Oh wonder, how things will work out, not being aware of just how bad things are. And yet you keep trying to push me, force me, to undergo life as though it’s a positive experience despite my inner despairities. It's something that only gets worse with time. After all, shouldn’t life be about pleasure, not pain, and/or perhaps one shouldn’t obsess over pain but over pleasure, and be addicted instead to pleasure rather than pain...

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