I Just Wanted You To Watch Me Dissolve.

Just because, why not?

For future record, the careless rambling of a mind that's in dissolution is probably best reserved for paper you're immediately willing to burn.

Nothing distracts from liberation like posting an unstable realization on the internet.

You must be new here.

86% of the threads on GLP could be considered unstable realizations.

86% of the threads aren't referring to liberation, though. I expect as much from a mind that's still confused. For one that's attempting to clarify, more care should be given.

I'm speaking to you like this because I care, and because I've traversed that particular pitfall myself.

Temptation to show off realization is about as backwards a step as you can go.

86% of the threads aren't referring to liberation, though. I expect as much from a mind that's still confused. For one that's attempting to clarify, more care should be given.

I'm speaking to you like this because I care, and because I've traversed that particular pitfall myself.

Temptation to show off realization is about as backwards a step as you can go.

An experiment in freewriting in a dissociative state is not an attempts to flaunt a realization.

I don't think it's flaunting so much as trying to give others around you the same realization, a mistake I made while having a perspective of all humans wanting the same thing.

Sometimes I am overcome by a sudden urge to write. Though words and sentences trudge along slowly, they all lead towards something; perhaps not something great, and rarely anything profound, but some completion worth pursuing nonetheless. The darkest regions of my vacuous mind cry out from the abyss for realization, their tentacles sprawling forth superseding hopes unfulfilled and dreams unparalleled.

I like it

fixed

Sometimes I am overcome by a sudden urge to write. Though words and sentences trudge along slowly, they all lead towards something; perhaps not something great, and rarely anything profound, but some completion worth pursuing nonetheless. The darkest regions of my cavernous mind cry out from the abyss for realization, their tentacles sprawling forth superseding hopes unfulfilled and dreams unparalleled.

Before the word, the earth was formless and void and darkness hovered above the waters of the deep. And again, here and now, the word flows into being, giving form to the formless, cause to the causeless. Birthed anew in lieu of the light of morning still miles away.

Sentences drip on paper like blood let in some arcane ritual, a sacrifice meant to appease the gods of harvest and fertility, atonement for the sins both of omission and commission that the winter winds have wrought in such calloused hearts.The thin sheets of ice upon the lawn crack underneath the weight of our boot heels, fragile and transparent, leaving very little to the imagination, the damp and chilled soil visible just below the surface. Barren trees stretching out their branches towards the heavens and calling down the light of the moon in their feverish trance.

Life whispers sweetly all around me, in the howling wind, the snapping twigs, a drop of rain, a forlorn lovers sigh. Midnight creeps in, seeking another victim to pluck apart with its ghastly talons. A dim mahogany light fights desperately to illuminate the dark but to no avail, its tired radiance and the shadows all around conjoined like oil and water. The smell of cedar mingled with fear wafts through the air like a drunken mistress, seductive, teasing the senses and caressing the hungry ghosts of February's chagrin.

I know you.

Sometimes I am overcome by a sudden urge to write. Though words and sentences trudge along slowly, they all lead towards something; perhaps not something great, and rarely anything profound, but some completion worth pursuing nonetheless. The darkest regions of my cavernous mind cry out from the abyss for realization, their tentacles sprawling forth superseding hopes unfulfilled and dreams unparalleled.

Before the word, the earth was formless and void and darkness hovered above the waters of the deep. And again, here and now, the word flows into being, giving form to the formless, cause to the causeless. Birthed anew in lieu of the light of morning still miles away.

Sentences drip on paper like blood let in some arcane ritual, a sacrifice meant to appease the gods of harvest and fertility, atonement for the sins both of omission and commission that the winter winds have wrought in such calloused hearts.The thin sheets of ice upon the lawn crack underneath the weight of our boot heels, fragile and transparent, leaving very little to the imagination, the damp and chilled soil visible just below the surface. Barren trees stretching out their branches towards the heavens and calling down the light of the moon in their feverish trance.

Life whispers sweetly all around me, in the howling wind, the snapping twigs, a drop of rain, a forlorn lovers sigh. Midnight creeps in, seeking another victim to pluck apart with its ghastly talons. A dim mahogany light fights desperately to illuminate the dark but to no avail, its tired radiance and the shadows all around conjoined like oil and water. The smell of cedar mingled with fear wafts through the air like a drunken mistress, seductive, teasing the senses and caressing the hungry ghosts of February's chagrin.

Chide remarks are remarks nonetheless.

They certainly are.

If you want my honest opinion though, I can't get past the first couple paragraphs because of how overstuffed and pretentious it all is. Try to find a more clever and entertaining way to convey your message. Right now about 70% of your writing seems to be a vain attempt at letting us know that you're smart.




Writing Pro Tip: no one cares about you, so if you're going to write about yourself try to make it seem like that's not the case. Good Luck!

They certainly are.

If you want my honest opinion though, I can't get past the first couple paragraphs because of how overstuffed and pretentious it all is. Try to find a more clever and entertaining way to convey your message. Right now about 70% of your writing seems to be a vain attempt at letting us know that you're smart.




Writing Pro Tip: no one cares about you, so if you're going to write about yourself try to make it seem like that's not what you're actually doing. Good Luck!

You....SHHHHHH unless you can improve upon the Silence.

More poetry please OP.

That's all well and good but I didn't come here for writing tips and those who receive the message implanted within understand. It just wasn't meant for you, I suppose.