sharing the evolution of my thoughts as i perceive the world

down the road

count i lost for countless times

unknown how long i must wait,

addicted to consistent chimes

how i wish i could hit and wake


days passed i could not reckon

full of memories i can’t recall,

all these faces i have forgotten

i wore them off, after all


intermittently came my episodes

if only time i could bend,

& hitch-hike down the road

for every episode comes an end


what went down

in my dream i wake in a cave

on a shore that sees no sun,

inhaling the sound of every wave

stranded on a land that holds no one

in my dream the moon is my lover

for a sky of black ignites a spark,

in its ephemeral nature lies forever

destined is light when there is dark

at the edge of the shore i see a face

breaking silence with every scream,

the moon was torn out of place

i wake up, it’s just another dream 

to a reality so limited and cruel

in freedom we cannot roam,

never fails to take me for a fool

i came to realize, i have no home

cheaters of death

there in the end is where we stood

transcended by the moment, wishing us good

wonders in torment, on the quest of godhood

seeking immortality, in fire and wood


& there in the end wears off the night

consumed by words, blinded by light

shredded apart by fears of fight

all we wanted to be, was minds in flight


there in the end, we existed to be

born to die, to set ourselves free

a life too short, for us to see

cheaters of death, I wish we could flee




One of the very first phenomena instinctively realized by my brain and injected externally by my mother’s voice was learning that my human body needs food on a regular basis in order for my existence to persist. Three meals per day; some animal flesh served on a manmade plate accompanied by a manmade knife on the right-side and of course a manmade fork on the left-side. What a beautiful presentation to symbolize our sophisticated evolution: consuming flesh, morally and ethically. The irony.


As I grew older, I started taking my meals for granted, as if speeding up the process of aging and death would shake at all my very destiny.

When my body, the limitation of my mind and conscious existence, ceases to function, I will cease with it.

As I grew older, the degree of my exposure to time increased and continues to do so until my very last moment. The universe can thus epitomize the phenomenon of consumption, until of course it has consumed itself to the end point of time ‘as we know it’.


Consumption is the recursion of existence; thus my yesterday self is just as nonexistent as the meal I had consumed for lunch exactly, say, 4 years ago. Thereupon, the human brain is soaked with this jinxed recursive affair. And to exacerbate that burden, the mind reacts to this injustice; no body is sane, we are all neurotic in 7 billion different manners.


Neurosis is a lifestyle; it is a way for the human mind to behave according to the given. Depression, which lies at the heart of neurosis, is the mind’s expression for being unfairly limited by a human body that is endangered and tormented by reality, possibility, and randomness. We fall in an ocean of possible events, not knowing where to go and what to choose, thinking that no choice at all means possessing infinite possibilities in our hands; where frankly not choosing at all drowns us in that ocean furthermore. Because ultimately, all the paths taken by every human being in time converge at the very same point through consumption: death, so why choose at all, asks the depressed. Unlike the clinically neurotic, the ‘sane’ average man chooses to choose, but why? Once you have chosen, you are fighting your way out of that ocean; you are escaping self-consumption by consuming on paths you claim rational. By the same token, the depressed, by not choosing, ‘chooses’ to drown, because the depressed is subjected to too much truth; because the depressed knows that fighting his way to the surface or allowing self-consumption both escort him to the same end product.


Clinically or not, we are all subjects of depression; we will all ultimately drown in this ocean of truth, because as the clinically depressed, we are all dependent on nurture and surroundings. The human being will always instinctively attempt to find a transference object; one who could hold the burden. To project one’s life onto the transference object is to give the object the role of God; the one who protects and reassures immortality. That is why when a beloved one passes away we encounter denial, for if our transference object dies, we die too, and that cannot happen. Our dependency on the transference object cannot bare the consequences. We deny our own death.

Ergo the paradoxical question: How can the depressed allow self-consumption yet deny his own death? How come we do not self-destruct ourselves and speed up nature’s quest?


With all due respect to Zen philosophy, which asserts that we are nature itself, I would like to assert that we are not only the universe in experience, but we are forces of nature who are able to tame with it, to self-evolve. We choose to live because we are existentially neurotic; given that we will die, we will always attempt to project ourselves on transference objects that are perfect tools for our denial.

Scientists took a deep plunge in the dangerous ocean of truth and succumbed to self-consumption only to introduce the concept of time. Hence we now ‘know’ time better than the universe itself. Mathematicians have come up with the concept of probability only to measure the certainty of a possibility’s outcome; however, the universe does not know probability, it only knows certainty and existence. The universe cannot choose. And that is how we extend ourselves from nature. 


In light of existential neurosis, we choose to choose even by not choosing.

“How many sunsets shall I see set?” I ask, with a little guilty, greedy hope that the sun will cease to set once I have died.

Being all victims of existential neurosis escorts us to two outcomes: on the one hand, the existential angst eats us up, on the other hand, we do not fall victim of self-consumption, but instead we “rage against the dying of the light.”

like cockroaches in paradise

Not long ago, I went on a summer stroll with a dear friend. It evolved into a hike to one of the highest, most beautiful peaks in the country. When I made it to the top, it felt as though I have surpassed a sort of threshold of breathing. Too much beauty might kill you, right?

At the top after I have settled, a cockroach takes a hold of my attention; it had been struggling while fighting the wind; it reminded me of the human animal, as Ernest Becker calls us. It reminded me of the human condition, which is the desire to be in a Godlike position yet pinned in a mortal sack, always fighting life and falling in attempts of sticking out of our nature.

One of the roles of the human condition is that it permits us to initiate our drive in our quests of immortality, by thrusting into beauty and ‘moments of now.’ My involvement in beauty rendered me, a human animal, feeling more of a God than merely a conscious being. This immersion in life and beauty, meaning and time, made me feel that I have mounted over the condition that I was so unluckily disposed to the day I was born a conscious being.

I had opened and stretched my arms as though I was symbolizing my readiness to give in, to give in to the grandiosity of the universe and life, which I have been deeply plunged in.

It’s called the “flow state”, that moment the human animal skips the ‘being’ stage and knocks out the barriers of Godhood.

However, being subjected to beauty, meaning, and life comes with a cost: time. Time is what gives way to entropy and death, time is what led the wind onto the cockroach and trembled the ground we stood upon; with no time there is no motion, no change.

Yet, a butterfly with a broken wing gives more color than an identical butterfly that is alive and free to roam with the summer breeze. The human being seeks Godhood, though conscious of his own fate. The cockroach was at a peak, higher than any other cockroach, yet paying the cost of fighting the wind.

In a moment of now, as I like to call it, time seems slower, and life seems more meaningful, as if we are destined to something other than our mortality. As I opened my arms and was prepared to give in to the power of now, and the colors of beauty, I would close my eyes and forget that I’m at a peak, until the heavy wind moves me slightly and snaps me back into my mortal body.


Why do we allow the idea of death and human condition to interfere with our moments of Godhood? Death and time have known each other “forever.” Why is our fear of death and time our biggest fear and drive? Why fear time so much when it’s what gave meaning to life? Agents of existence cannot be in two places at once; we would not have existed without this notion.

As long as time rules our universe, the clash of existence and beauty will never cease; the beauty of a flower is found at the very root of its ephemerality.

It took us 14 billion years to make it here, and our atoms have been fighting their way for all this time, for we have not been born on our birthdays, we have been born and alive for 14 billion years. What we don’t and won’t understand anytime soon, is that we are the universe because if we all die today, who will be there to define its existence tomorrow? We are the universe, we are continuity.


One of the most burdensome thoughts is the fact that everyday is the first of the rest of your life. How often do we say that to ourselves? How often do we get out of bed in the morning thinking today we are newborns, but only a day older? The idea that everything we have experienced is only just a memory, and we call it the past; what makes it any different than a fantasy? Every single second, reality has been renewed, and many things in the universe have changed. Every single second, the universe grows way larger, and there you are, grown a bit older. Lucidly put, there is no past—the future is all that is left for you. This is where the worthlessness of reliving the past comes in; this is where we realize the worthlessness of explaining a past event—a memory; for in that moment of now we could be experiencing life anew. By the same token comes the contemplation that we are star-stuff; that just as much as the past is nonexistent, the future has its terminal point. Lucidly put, it places us in a spot where life is enclosing in on us through time.

And as we observe ourselves being enveloped by time, we are struck by a “what now?” moment. Now, life hints that it has not set you an ultimate, well-defined purpose, that “we are star-stuff, we are a way for the universe to know itself.” Maybe the burden of being conscious beings is no burden at all; perhaps it is an opportunity for us to capture and reproduce beauty. We go so hard on ourselves to try to make it somewhere that we forget how beautiful the journey is. We focus on certain phenomena so much that we forget the big picture; and when the big picture is mentioned, we dismiss it, by undervaluing it in contrast with our big concerns.

Perhaps our purpose is to take advantage of every now and of our consciousness by discovering the underlying secrets of the cosmos buried deep within every single one of us, by asserting our position as the frontal lobes of the universe. Hence the noble efforts of those who still live among us today in our books and in our references, the enormous efforts of capturing and explaining life and its beauty. Perhaps this lack of ultimate purpose sets us a purpose that drives us more than ever; that assigns our desire to colonize the universe, our desire to hold the world in words and gaze at a sunset that renders us as “butterflies who flutter for a day and think it’s forever.” We’re like fire that needs more heat, conscious beings that want more of life, and more of now.

We are filled with the desire to feel more. The desire to feel more than just sexual intercourse, the desire to feel more than just happy; we thrive to burn, not to just feel warmth.

When I am struck by a beautiful sunset with awe, it renders me a little sad, not just because of its ephemeral nature, but also more explicitly because of my desire to feel more of it, because of my desire to hold it tight and hug it in the most literal meaning.

Profit well of every “now” moment by blooming out the child in you that craves discovery; because if you don’t do that often, and you follow your big concerns and dismiss the big picture, you will wind up someday in your midlife thinking “what now?” again. If you don’t, you will find yourself contemplating on your past—on the memory of the maze-like journey that led you to feelings of nothingness, to the illusion that you have been cheated on by life. There are some walls in that maze that are worth breaking, and scenes behind them that are worth plunging in, no matter how lost you feel you are.

Indulge in that moment of “now” where you don’t have to beat the clock and attempt to live it all, because you cannot live it all, unless you can only live fully, now.

et il y a nous 

One beautiful experience from a beautiful friend

Il y a 6 mois, je suis tombée plus bas que je ne serais jamais tombée dans mes rêves de fillette de 5 ans. Parce qu’à 5 ans on dit: Je ne toucherai jamais une cigarette. A 5 ans ont dit aimer maman, aimer papa. On dit aimer jouer, aimer la vie.
Puis on grandit et on doute. De tout ce qui nous tient a Coeur. On doute de l’amour d’une mère, ont doute de l’amour d’un père si loin. On doute de l’amour de soi et on se fait mal.

Je dis On, en parlant des gens comme moi. Pour ne pas dire Je, déjà que ça me répugne de rester seule. Quoique lorsqu’on tombe bas, on adore rester seul, on se sens fort, mais on est si bas.

Sauf lorsqu’on s’y attache, je ne vous dit rien de nouveau, vos mères vous ont sûrement dit: « Et après vous allez vouloir plus, et plus » ça vient du Down dans le langage des On.
On apprend des concepts à la con. On pense comprendre à quel point c’est logique, à quel point ça a réglé une grande partie de notre cerveau et on se sent si spécial, On voit l’œil de la conscience, On voit le plus beau paysage au monde en pensant que la vie normale et si réelle va nous suffire ensuite.

Ensuite on aime, un amour en manque. On vit dans l’illusion de comprendre tout le monde, de ne plus avoir de haine dans notre Coeur qui se cache de la vérité abstraite du repis. On est humain, on peux ne pas apprecier tout le monde. Mais non, à ce stade on adore, comme une exposition d’âme, comme un besoin de donner un amour pour dire qu’on ne l’a jamais reçu.

Et on vit des soirées de fatigue sans fatigue en s’excusant de notre corps et le rassurant “Un jour tu vas mourir, profite” Mais qu’est-ce que profiter?

On voit la vie de droite à gauche ensuite de gauche a droite et on sort de tout concept de mort en comprenant que nous n’avons plus de corps à nous. Notre esprit, qui n’est qu’une substance, vaut plus que ça, ça étant une réalité si stupide.

Et on se retrouve vers 3 heures du matin, tous les On de la ville, à danser sur la même musique qu’on trouve tous magnifique parce qu’on aime la vie qu’on vit en étant mort. On se force à survivre, on se force à apprécier une fatigue inexistante, on se force à jouer avec des concepts dans un grooving de Underground, et on ose dire : Heaven is Underground.

Et il y a eux, les pas comme nous. Qui “ Je bois modérément” “je ne couche pas sans préservatif” et “je ne fais jamais rentrer de substances toxiques dans mon corps d’athlète”, et devinez quoi? Ils valent mieux. Mais attention nous aussi on a des corps d’athlètes. On ne mange plus. Ca nous rend cools de danser sur une tombe.
 Moi, lorsque je me retrouve de 3 heures du matin à 8 heures du matin à danser et décomposer une musique, que je ne fais plus rien le lendemain, ni le surlendemain, que je frappe ma maman parceque je te jure maman j’ai mal. Lorsque tout ça, je réalise que comprendre l’incompréhensible et être si malheureuse que ça deviant se propage à tous les gens que j’aime dans ma réalité, c’est là que tu réalises que tu es dans la pure merde, que tu ne vis pas, tu meurs.
J’ai souvent regardé ces On dans ces soirées du matin. Ces on, qui, sûrement m’ont regardée aussi. Et je vois l’ennui. Oui on groove, et puis quoi? On pense à rien. On n’aime rien ou tout, ça dépend de la substance. On comprend tout ou rien, et on croit comprendre tout et on ne comprend rien. Tout semble être a sa place alors que tout est en désordre. Tout semble être mis en place pour passer une soirée de fou, avec des sentiments de fou et même sur la cocaïne qui nie tout sentiment, on sent ne rien sentir et on aime ça.
 On aime les extrêmes, les refoulements de ce qui nous a blaisé. Et on blaise à notre tour par pur égoïsme. Mais On, je vous comprends comme vous me comprenez, quelques fois Dieu nous met trop à l’épreuve, Dieu ou Dame Nature je m’en fou. Ça nous met trop à l’épreuve. 
Je voulais ne pas prendre. J’ai résisté 1 mois et 2 semaines. Pourquoi tu as tout fait pour que je vois cette soirée de Fou. Cette soirée d’ennui, de sentiments exaspérants, et bourrée d’illusions.

Tu me les as montrés alors qu’en 1 mois et deux semaines t’avais fermé ta gueule et toutes les publicités du bo18, du Uberhause et t’avais très bien fermé a clé les toilettes de Yukunkun. Alors pourquoi tu me fais ça? Tu sais que je suis faible. Tu sais que j’ai mal. Aide moi. Ne me déteste plus comme je me déteste.

quest of immortality

So there’s this illusion of suffering both mentally and emotionally that is experienced by every human being who ever was and ever will be. It is felt so deeply to the extent that it is able of both moulding us and breaking us; sometimes even tearing us to pieces for the mere sake of putting us back together differently. And maybe this is why at some point we enjoy suffering; this is why we are masochists. Because how dull would life be without this suffering, this anxiety? Happiness probably would not even be existent.
Albert Einstein said that darkness does not exist, that darkness is simply and only the absence of light. In other words, since man is only able to measure light and not darkness, then darkness is nothing more than the absence of light. This egocentricity of man, this tendency to render phenomena to how man perceives and understands them, this “we are in the center of the universe” frame of mind, is what drives us actually.

We are beings of consciousness who are able to look at ourselves, and at the universe, and imaginatively alter our state of existence in our minds. Yet, we are aware that all of this cognitive power, creativity and energy are all stored in a mortal sack of skin that is set to be set off, and decays into nothingness. By nothingness I refer to our disappearance and detachment from “reality.”

But think about it, how can we see and measure and define light if darkness is not a real thing?

Just as darkness is not the absence of light, but rather an opportunity for light to be existent, our emptiness and anxiety is not the absence of life, but rather an opportunity for life to thrive.

The way I see it, human beings cannot bare the idea of the end, cannot bare the idea of emptiness and “nothingness.” That is why everything is the way we see it today, and that is why we are evolving ultimately; trying to beat the clock, trying to build things and do things to immortalize ourselves, always distracting ourselves and avoiding alone time.

Because being alone means being subjected to our emptiness. That is why we suffer from the fear of missing out, we want to be everywhere at once, and we want to be known by everyone; we just want to be special.

That is why, ultimately, we suffer from the fear of death, because then all that will remain is our emptiness, or nothingness for the sake of the analogy. And even that is not certain!


For millions of years, man has tried and thought of millions of ways to fill that emptiness, to “escape” the idea of death and entropy.

We try religion, we try to fill our emptiness with the idea of immortality after life; we make ourselves believe that there is a greater force, a greater power that is there to hold us and give us eternity after we detach from this temporary reality.

Whether religion is enough for us to escape our emptiness and move on in life, or whether we just can’t believe in something that just isn’t there, we will search for love. We will search for someone to love us back. We will immortalize our existence in our lover’s life. We will become a part of it, sometimes even all of it, we will try our best to be everything for that person, for that person immortalizes us; that person fills our emptiness and ‘ignites light in our obscure darkness.’

But then comes a point where we feel that even that isn’t enough, that we are not everything to that person, that that person is not fully able to fill our emptiness. A point where the relationship can’t withstand the weight of ‘immortality’, that’s where we realize that our lover cannot save us, and suddenly we slip into the void again, diving heavily into anxiety.

We require more.

We require an extension of ourselves, an extension to our life; for one day we will decay into nothing, and what will remain of us after that? How are we going to mark our footprints before we’re transformed back to the stardust and energy we once were?

You know, there’s this beautiful but common thing human beings say, which is “I see myself in him/her.” This is the phase where we fully realize that we are in love; but we don’t acknowledge, not one bit, that we have extended ourselves, ‘not to ruin the majestic moment.’ However, no matter how much love one finds in another, one will always love oneself most.

Ask yourself right now, who is the person who you’ll see yourself in and love the most ?

Your child- an extended version of yourself, and your footprints on Earth for a longer time; your child, is you. Hence the word “reproduction”; a reproduced you! Because your child helps you escape your fate in a different manner; your child is here to hold the burden you’ve carried for so long, that internal fight you’ve been engaged in for your whole life. You have succeeded in delaying death.

Then finally comes the time for you to leave reality, all denuded and ego-free, and you understand ‘the purpose of life’, then you accept it and give it up. This is the time when you choose to let go, when even your ego dissolves into nothingness.

Right after that instant, one servant of nature, out of infinitely many, has gone and let way for some other fresh servants of nature, new prototypes of life.

We are some complex and beautiful creatures who are merely variables in nature, a colorful cocktail of molecules, which by chance came to think. We are human beings. We are conscious of our consciousness. We are totally different individuals, each bearing a life-story and the biggest burden in the universe.

Maybe death is only the absence of life and simply a phase in the conservation of energy or maybe death is like darkness that is necessary to have some light.

In any case, death is there; persistently tormenting our minds; “One day we will decay into nothing, and what will remain of us after that?”

a letter from a dear friend 

I never waited for your birthday to tell you what kind of a person you are, i mean i always do, and ill continue to. As much as i know that the biggest illusion i believe in is hope, you are one of the few things that make me think otherwise. Even if you don’t see that cause when it comes to you, “all we are is a bunch of atoms sticked together and smart enough to be conscious but in fact we’re nothing and bla bla bla” but relatively to another human, which is me, who is just ‘conscious’ as well, you are not nothing. You’re everything but nothing. And i promise you, that in you i see many things, beautiful things. I can see a 30 year old you playing with his child all day in the backyard. I can also see a uni dropout who lives his life hiking from country to country all alone. I can see the next person with a great idea. Or even a junkie sitting on his couch with a dog writing many many books. I could see schizophrenic yuyu going all crazy before he commits suicide. 

But in all of these, you will never fail to get the beauty out of it. I hope you don’t end up with a dog or alone, ever. Because through everything i went through with you, i can say you’re more than that. You’re more than just a bunch of atoms, relatively to me of course, you’re like this bundle of infinite thoughts and ideas that it would be a shame if none of them came to exist. You touched me so much and I’m very grateful for that. 

I won’t tell you you’re the best guy and a friend anyone would wish to have cause you don’t fit in that category at all. 

You do deserve the best and i really hope that someday you will have the answers to all your questions. And that someday everything turns out the way you imagine it, and that you’ll be recognized by many people around the world. At least i have recognized you, big time, and this is why you are not nothing. And i hope that this is one reason for you to go on. To go on for the people that by the age of 19 you have managed to fuck their minds up, beautifully. Happy birthday yuyu, i love you.

Love aur

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