Write.

I wondered through certain places, and all I saw were pretenders. Those who are soft to talk, soft to think. Those who think nothing about everything. They read, write and speak: they profess words devoid of any and every meaning. God, how much they talk. Everything is within their grasp. Opinions that are more shallow than their writings. They read, write and speak: they have nothing to show. Despair before the nothingness they uphold. Pretenders that mimic others. Mimesis is art; but they are not artists. Exclude and include aleatory words into their own existence to justify the emptiness that is their reasoning. Now they scream against reason, too. There is nothing to be fulfilled. No duty to be conquered, no meaning to be disputed. Words are nulled under the guise of their suspicion. A disease of this malign individuation, yes. Cynics – with more beliefs than the most radical religious principled person. Hold onto the justification of your very own position of significance; thrive towards a pretentious self-satisfying institutional recognition. But never forget: do that in the name of something. Something that isn’t a God or many Gods. You are a pretender, after all. Continue reading →

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