I was reading the things I’ve wrote back in 2022. One of it was this article titled The Heaven : If heaven were to be the exact thing as this life, I will be happy.” I wondered what drove me think this way. Thank God there’s a writing about it.
As I walk while gazing how beautiful the full moon is, I think to myself and thought of the most beautiful thing I could say “If heaven were to be the exact thing as my current life, I would be so happy.” Something that I would never think of for so long, not even as long as I’ve lived. Never in a moment that I feel that I would say that. Why is heaven or anything at all, for happiness, is portrayed something to be obtained? Something to fight for, something that is outside ourselves, something that is not a walk distance to achieve, something that is not as easy as enjoying the change of day to night.
[…]
My depression felt instaneous. The accumulation of experience just suddenly bulks up and come miserableness. I couldn’t even point out what I do wrong to feel such miserableness. I am never content with myself and always seeking more and asking more as if there is an answer somewhere, somewhere outside, something that life has to offer that I yet to obtain.
Only recently I have picked up a small dumb habit that I could do everyday and is obtainable. Every night I walk outside of my house and walk sometimes with a purpose sometimes I just walk to clear my head, while abusing my auditory sense with any music that I like, abusing my available physical body to enjoy to the music and with no single soul actually care about how bad I joyfully dance with the sound of coldplay banging my ear drums. While chewing a mint flavored xlylol gum and admire how beautiful and perfectly coordinated the moon is. How perfectly dimmed but bright enough to be called a nighttime. Only when I stop and see I could perfectly capture how beautiful it is, to have the opportunity to live and see and fucking enjoy the fucking moonlight. It’s fucking unstructured craters shown graphically even from within a three hundred fucking thousands kilometers, it still shines its light ever so gracefully. Everything feels to be as its exact place where it needed to be.
Night by night I become to enjoy the moonlight more and more while my playlist is as same and as stale as it ever be, but I never feel so happy doing the same exact fucking thing, every fucking night. I never enjoy being alone as much as this. I have every freedom, every inch of my body to do the nightwalk or be cooped up doing anything else, I always choose to do the nightwalk a thousand times.
While doing my nightwalk routine, I’ve picked up an absurdly healthy habit to stop by at a park and read Arthur Schopenhauer. I have some really beautiful quotes that I love to share.
“all that the possession of wealth can achieve has a very small influence upon our happiness, in the proper sense of the word; indeed, wealth rather disturbs it, because the preservation of property entails a great many unavoidable anxieties”
“So you may see many a man, as industrious as an ant, ceaselessly occupied from morning to night in the endeavor to increase his heap of gold. Beyond the narrow horizon of means to this end, he knows nothing; his mind is a blank, and consequently unsusceptible to any other influence. The highest pleasures, those of the intellect, are to him inaccessible, and he tries in vain to replace them by the fleeting pleasures of sense in which he indulges, lasting but a brief hour and at tremendous cost.”
Also another great quote from Epictitus
“Men are not influenced by things, but by their thoughts about things”
I write this because I fucking need to. If there’s any regret that I have in my life, is that I wish I couldve write more. Life feels to short sometimes, I feel that I have the most drastic life transformation in 2021 to 2022 from wanting to kill myself and done multiple suicide attempts to be able to enjoy the fucking moonlight and say to myself If heaven were to turn out this exact experience of a life, I would be happy. Even if Heaven is this exact life and is playing without my past life not knowing that this has been playing on repeat I would be glad and enjoy this moment that has been given to me. I was blind, I couldn’t see how simple as simple as wearing my sandals, walk on the same route as yesterday, see the same light as yesterday, see the same fucking symetrical buildings as yesterday, the same fucking round looking ass and imperfect looking ass of a moon that is not even a perfect shade of gray of a boring ass moon. I never even glanced more than 5 seconds to fucking realize how a boring ass moon could fucking change my mood.
I don’t know how to wrap up this boring ass article so that it could live up to the title’s expectation. But I guess if there’s anything that I wish I could say to my past self is that I would grab him by the shoulder and say “seek something that is crazily easily obtainable, not something that is years away, not something that is uncertain and fleeting. Something that you could look forward every fucking day, something so simple you could just reach it, you could even imagine doing it right fucking now. Something that satisfies you, not something that other people expected you to do, do something for the sake of you want it not out of something folly and uncertain or worse something that makes you feel anxious. Life shouldn’t be something you fear of, life should be something that you could look forward to, and that something is something you could look forward to every single day, and you will be happy doing it every single day of your life, you will enjoy every single day of your life.
End Quote
Perhaps I was right. It just so happens to me that today that one thing to look forward to is writing. I have wrote 14 articles in a span of 26 days that’s averaged 1 article for every 2 days. I didn’t set a goal to be in such a way. It just happens.
I showed my friends the things I wrote in a form of audios so I don’t take much of the little time they have in their life. The most often recieved comment is “I’m surprised on how much you can write in a such period of time, how do you do that?” I don’t know. I really don’t know. Maybe the case is always true and that is I used to seek happiness in a form of future states that is attainable only through effort, hope, and expectations. Only that one time when I was in university I somehow decided that maybe I need to create happiness out of the abuse of my own biological function. Walking produces dopamine, listening to good music produces dopamine, reading books that I find entertaining produces dopamine, seeing something beautiful and that is the moon produces dopamine. All of that I can do every day. I was recovering from trauma from hate from other people, I felt like a hazard to other people, I’m tired of relying on other people to be happy. I must be able to be happy alone. I succumbed myself to a habit and that is nightwalks, being alone in my dark neighborhood listening to music on my headphone. The state of bliss when doing the nightwalk routine was described on the article.
Strange that just now on 8 December 2023 I feel alien to that article. Under what state was I back then? Was that state only momentary because of the condition was provided? Now I have work and the weather here is not as good to do the same routine back when I was in 2022. I feel like I’m already too tired to do lengthy nightwalk and I couldn’t smoke a ciggarete while walking.
I also like the part when I say “I write this because I fucking need to. If there’s any regret that I could have in my life, is that I wish I couldve write more. Life feels to short sometimes.” That is still to be true though I have forgotten that me on that day was feeling the same way about writing. The same sudden absurd need to write not out of want but rather out of need. Maybe it is true what the scientist says that “the depressed brain is an active brain.” Maybe writing serves as a good coping mechanism because it requires mental energy, thus the energy or brainpower that was used to be depressed is transferred to the act of writing. The way you used to put it “I listen to the voices inside my head that produces these writings.” A distribution of energy in the brain.
The distribution of energy in forms of frustration coming out of the false image of Her that cares in a sense the same level that you give weight to the word care into your very first ever article that you wrote on visual studio code that now becomes a habit or rather a coping mechanism of pain.
The state of sadness that produces beautiful line of thoughts that other people somehow appreciates. The same way when luca said “That’s pretty fucking good.” after listening to “The Joy”. The same way when she said “That is very nice, I almost teared up listening to it.” after listening to “The Art”. Those pieces was a cry for reason when I was subjugated to my sadness. I write because I need to. I can’t handle my sadness, I can’t sleep, I’m in any language, abhorrently abnormal. The same way when your ex says “You’re too mentally unstable.” Why can’t I be mentally stable? How much I wish to be normal. Why much I wish I’m not crying before I sleep. It’s pathetic.
I’m still surprised when my friend says “The thing that I hate about me is that I feel my amplitude is too short. It doesn’t matter how much I want to cry I couldn’t cry. Yet, I want to cry.” I was baffled, as much as I have been crying I want to cry less. I want to be normal! I want to be normal so bad to the point I began to reason and write articles and justify that sadness is a part of the human experience and without sadness we wouldn’t be able to perceive happiness. Therefore, sadness is a state that must be embraced.
One of my friend said after listening to “The Joy”, “I learned a lot from that, you are right. I realized that something that I hate about myself is that I feel my amplitude is too low, when I was happy I don’t feel so happy and when I was sad, I never cry. I wish I could cry.” I thought about what he said and then I made “The Phantom.” Then I showed it to him the next day and explained the part where he doesn’t understand after listening to the audio as if the audio is only 80% of the information I wanted to convey and the other 20% is what I explained verbally. But basically it goes something the lines of this:
The reason why I used the word “The Phantom” is inspired by the “Phantom Limb Syndrome” in which 80% to 100% cases of amputees somehow patients experience sensations, whether painful or otherwise, in a limb that does not exist. It’s almost as if the brain is fooled based on previous experiences. The limb has been taken away from the individual yet the brain feels indifferent. The brain already has a pathway to the sensation that somehow lazily still activates because the pathway to the sensation has been too finessed subconsciously even though consciously the individual has no limb and can move no limb. I said to him “Maybe the case is true for human emotions.” I am greatly sad because there’s now a backdoor to my previous suffering in which the pahtway there has been too finessed. The brain will just lead the way there it doesn’t matter how much consciously I want to not be sad. I can’t override the unconscious that is relating to its previous state of sadness. And maybe for you there’s no backdoor as much as phantom limb syndrome exists only for amputees but not with people who are born without a leg.
The ironic thing with my state of sadness is that I really genuinely like the things that I have wrote. I love looking back at it and listening back to it, tearing up from the same audio that was made in the past. I found joy in it. I also found joy when my work is appreciated by other people, even if it came out of sadness and sheer amount of cope.
When I finished writing “The Joy” I really thought that was the end of it. I remember telling someone “The crisis is resolved! This is the article that ends all article! As now the site from the end of the joy was 4 articles by 14th of november to be fifteen articles by 8th of december. It’s almost as if I gave the impression “The crisis is resolved! Nothing will hurt again! I will never be sad again! There will no longer be any need for future writings!” How dumb and naive I was…
The other ironic thing about sadness is that when I’m sad I feel like the day feels so slow and much more memorable. Through these writings days feels much more memorable and alive. Frankly, there are times in my life when I feel “Fuck, months passed by so fast, It’s almost as if last year was yesterday.” I will not say the same for this year. This year has been fucking massive. Overall net fucking positive experience. Through the cliff of sadness, tragedy, unrequited love, and much more. The fucking mountains of value overshadows the fucking cliff. I’m glad I was sad. I’m glad the state of extreme sadness enabled me to produce such extremely invaluable lines of thoughts. In which that is not only valuable to me but also for other people.