Saturday, November 24, 2018

They cannot stop you unless you stop



That's what I keep telling myself. Again, and again.
They cannot stop me unless I stop.
They can't stop me unless I give up. If I give up, they have succeeded.
They are idiots, because I can't really stop. It's not a choice. Asking me to stop breathing would have been easier.

I can't stop seeing. I can't stop writing. I can't stop understanding. It's the way I am wired. The same brain that discerns patterns and responds to specific kinds of music is the mind that has hosted freaks and monsters and wonders for as long as it exists. Yes, conditioning plays a part, but there is genetic predisposition and there is also something called soul. 

I follow in the footsteps of Hecate, gathering freaks and lost souls from the crossroads of life, gathering the weird ones around me. Strength in numbers, because everyone and everything is against us. Against decency, humanity, understanding, common sense, dignity, hope. This is war, and it has been going on for as long as humanity exists, and it has never been better or worse. There are periods of remission and periods where the struggle is violent and visible. The struggle never stops, and it is inside as much as outside because this is the way of life. As above, so below, within and without.

Right now in Ohio men in power want to completely abolish abortion and jail women on the mere suspicion.
In countless countries being gay still gets you the death penalty.
Trafficking is worse than ever. Wars have provided the jaws of the Machine with an endless supply of fresh meat.
The entire world stumbles towards blind, mindless, bloody chaos, and I put one foot in front of the other even if I have to clench my teeth to do it.
They cannot stop you unless you stop. 
Ο μόνος τρόπος να σε σταματήσουν είναι να σταματήσεις.
Keep moving. 
Don't let them silence you.
There are truths that aren't negotiable.
Keep going. 

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Sunday, November 04, 2018

I do it better than Daenerys

 
I have been dragging my feet, feeling sorry for myself.
Working in a job I hate does not help.
The tide floods me inside, red as my anger, pure wrath.
It withdraws and I am drowning in the mire of depression.
Anger, depression, anger, depression. A constant cycle.
It's completely useless and I know it. 
The only thing that helps is music.
Elizabeth shitborn of the house of psychotic ass-clowns, 
the last of her line, the loquacious, the unkempt,  
Queen of lost earrings and dead ends,
breaker of mugs, mother of cats,
rescuer of paper clips and rubber bands
redistributor of clothes and goods,
devourer of cake,
destroyer of mosquitoes, 
collector of cathairs and fountain pens. 
I'm off to go fuck myself. 
It should be fun.

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