unable to stay a fixed ideal. not sure if it’s a good or bad thing yet. forever changing— never the same. stunted growth no longer delayed. each day becomes another opportunity to reinvent myself. break the cycle just to remake it again + again + again.

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taxi driver. wash away all the scum off the earth. fuck em— kill em all. who cares. violence + exploitation the neverending cycle of 21st century capitalism. sweatshop labour oppressive laws for minorities cia interference. peel off the layers to find the same rotten core. filth the lot of it.

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retreat into loneliness an isolated internal world. away from everyone else it’s peace at first but then the silence becomes unbearable nouse worse than anything. it rips at your insides begging to tear apart flesh until there is nothing left. it eats + eats + leaves a big gaping hole in its place.

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moral purity will destroy modern society. the pc culture that originally had good intentions has now gone so far it’s eating itself incapable of keeping up with its own impossible standards. yet again another movement self-imploding. if it hadn’t gone too far maybe it could’ve done some good. but it has taken self-censorship (+ imposed censorship) to such an extreme that it needs to be gotten rid of. any serious sociopolitical conversation has been ruined by this overly-pc collective. counterproductive to the point of regression in all areas.

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plaid cymru won the caerphilly by-election yesterday. 47% of the vote. reform the only real competition. welsh labour is dead by its own hand. by abandoning their principles + fucking over the welsh people they caused their own demise. as much as they will want to blame other parties like plaid or reform there is no one to blame but themselves. the party that was created to represent the unions in parliament has now betrayed those same unions alienating their strongest supporters pushing them away into the arms of others. soon enough the tuc will disaffiliate itself with the labour party + put the final nail in the coffin. the power vacuum will be awful but as soon as someone comes + fills their spot as the true representatives of the unions + working class interests the equilibrium will be complete once more + things willl settle down.

but i do not think that party exists right now. the unions will never go to the lib dems after 2010 the greens are too politically irrelevant the tories have always been the enemy of the unions reform will never have their best interests at heart when they conflict with their own. corbyn’s new party isn’t interested in taking that mantle their priorities are not working people’s. maybe the tuc should field their own candidates + see what happens. run on the same principles as the unions. it might work out better for them instead of replying on an outside political party to represent them. maybe even get some of the old union figures involved— scargill? a contentious pick but also a statement of intent. maybe also lure burnham from labour: draw mainstream attention. the state of left wing politics is so bad right now there needs to be a factory reset of the whole thing. redo it all from the ground up. only then will it be successful.

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21st century society is hyperindividualist to the point of its own detriment. one day it will be its downfall. every action taken is all about kicking the ladder from beneath you to prevent others from being capable of doing well at anything. give a man his freedom + he will use it to throw someone else's on the fire: he will dance on its ashes. a celebration of the loss of liberty while utilising his own. one day it will happen to him too. the cyclical nature of life will catch up to all eventually. no one is safe. humanity is its own worst enemy. it should destroy itself now + cut it short no need to drag out its own slow march towards death any longer.

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closed eyes

reveal a forgotten childhood.

throwing stones in streams,

staying out until the streetlights turn on.

when things were simple

and nothing mattered.

spending life trying to chase that feeling

of true carelessness,

a particular kind of innocence to the world./p>

a safety blanket ripped away too soon,

never to get back.

a constant yearning/p>

for a past that no longer exists.

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the u-18s mental health services ignore any problems + then dump everything on the adults' services. the adults services then 'treat' you by denying + taking away and + all autonomy. all of a sudden all choices about youself are no longer in your hands: everything is passed to family + doctors even at the detriment of the so-called 'patient'. pass the buck + under no circumstances ever let the person make decisions fully for themselves. to 'get help' you must sacrifice anything, + is it even worth it? probably not. all teh nhs do is 'fix' the issue by giving you new ones. drug you up to make you 'easier' for evertone else instead of accepting that some people are just different, it's not about actually helping people, deep down (or barely below the surface). it's all about making people more pallitable/acceptable/'normal' by twenty-first century societal standards. barely a step above locking people in asylums + throwing away the key. in fact— that still happens w/ psychiatric hospitals today. the image has evolved to remain acceptable by outside standards byt the core of the treatment is the same. and will remain so unitl the doctors + nhs have a major change of perception.

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bruise burn dry flake heal. the ultimate catharsis. the physical manifestation of the psychological. the merging of the two. a fleeting freedom followed by a sense of grounding. coming back to reality. bruise burn dry flake heal. repeat the process every time feels the same. the build up the calm followed by the rush of adrenaline. a ritual of its own. the perfect routine. bruise burn dry flake heal. bruise. burn. dry. flake. heal.

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the calm after the storm. the chaos of last night has been washed away. cozy lazy day in bed watching ex-mormon youtube videos with snacks. probably going to cook a roast dinner later. need to do reading for tomorrow's seminar + then might just continue with dante's inferno— don't have too much left, am on about canto 28 out of 34 (?) so really close to the end. hope to finish it by the end of the week so my attention can go fully to everything by simon price. the way he writes is just amazing, very engaging while also noy overly obviously embellishing anything + definitely not lying at all.

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time goes so fast like sand falling through my hands no matter how hard i try there's nothing i can do to slow it down. lay down for a brief moment and a week passes. blink and a year goes by. moments pass as quickly and easily as breathing: inhale exhale. i waste my life watching the timesand slip away between my fingers. occassionally i look up out the window at others' lives. fleeting moments of pure joy separated by glass. only ever an onlooker never a participant. in the cage i constructed for myself i sit and yearn for more. for life for laughter for something more. yet i stay still holding the key. staying in self-imposed isolation until there's no time left to make a change. it's too late.

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to feel braincells die a slow agonising death. every day humanity's intellect crawls closer to extinction. rotting in front of screens. rapid fire attention fix erodes at intelligence with each video watched. tune out slow down learn how to be alone again. pick up a book turn on the radio choose a slower way of life with reduced advertising. just something to make you THINK for just a minute or two. it's more than anyone else these days. sit in silence for an hour just to be in your own company. detach from the high speed instant dopamine hit of modern society before it destroys everything leaving only a shell of humanity devoid of any traits interests thoughts ideas.

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nostalgia

the biggest killer of life.

it causes a longing so severe

it paralyses.

tears apart from the inside out.

a yearning for a time long gone

with people no longer here.

stuck frozen in a moment

while the world moves on.

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small town boredom. only way to escape: books dvds music. trying to be anywhere but here anywhere but here. get out get out get out go SOMEWHERE just somewhere else but here. suffocating in boredom drowning in stillness.

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christmas day. happy fuckin whatever. 'christian' holiday centred around corporate greed. buy this buy that the perfect present is whichever one costs the most. at least i don't have to buy myself any more socks for the next year. + the only day of the year it's acceptable to eat chocolate for breakfast + day drink in front of the family. so there is some positives. and the new headphones. porta pros have surprisingly good sound quality!

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aesthetic is an illusion. a facade created to appease modern society. keep clean keep perfect. sanitise yourself strip away anything unique anything different leave only an empty shell to be remoulded to fit what is expected. nothing more important than keeping up appearances than blending into the masses.