Crying to the death of far ones.

Everyone that is born dies, some musicians would say that we are born to die. Many deaths can generate different emotions: fear, shock, depression, happiness, surprise, creativity (That’s not a feeling, but yeah).

Such emotions are laced into the impact that the person made in your life, that impact makes connections on your brain and make memories and affinity with another human being, and, with more impact, such as the one that a girlfriend can make (that can take over 6 month to recover), the more connections that are made and the more strong they are. So, if a person like a present father dies, you’ll feel very emotional, because your brain will bring back all that nostalgia of good and positive times that you had with him at the same moment, interpreting his death as the loss of a possible bringer of further happiness, and your brain needs to destroy that link, making you sad, by consequence.

But, what if that person is not that close to you, what if that person is some non present and non bringer of the probability of hapiness? Why would you cry?

That answer comes with a bit of backtracking, since the childhood, a lot of kids are taught that death is something bad and sad (Not if you live in Mexico or any other country that celebrates death, though), and, since they have no agency in the formulation of knowledge at that age, they will just take his/her/their tutors word for it, and that will be engrained and brought with them ’till or even after enlightment. Since death equals sadness, then you are supposed to be sad, and because of hive minding, they’ll be excluded and coerced if they are actually not sad and maybe even happy in the face of the longest nap of their far ones (or even close ones).

But that doesn’t answer the question: why would someone cry in facing the death of a non familiar person?

My theory is that people suffer from minor depressions every and each day, but their brains just ignore that, just so they don’t get affected that much and can actually be productive in real life (that doesn’t apply to people with depression). Nevertheless, those minor depressions produce chemicals on your brain, much like any other emotion, and those chemicals are stored, stored untill they decay or are used in something else. And that something else that matters in this case, if death is predominantly sad and it is a major emotional trigger, all of those minor depressions are used to make up a bigger sadness, so, if a person that isn’t close to you dies, that would normally considered a mild depression to your brain, but since you had a build up,  you’re done for.

This would be a chapter on my book, but this is coming out all of my mind, of zero experience, and i didn’t research for any of this, which can be a problem, but it’s



Cry’s soul searching

Have you ever loved someone so much, you’d give an arm for?
Not the expression, no, literally give an arm for?
When they know they’re your heart
And you know you were their armour
And you will destroy anyone who would try to harm her
But what happens when karma, turns right around and bites you?
And everything you stand for, turns on you to spite you?
What happens when you become the main source of her pain?
“Daddy look what I made”, Dad’s gotta go catch a plane
“Daddy where’s Mommy? I can’t find Mommy where is she?”
I don’t know go play Hailie, baby, your Daddy’s busy
Daddy’s writing a song, this song ain’t goin’ write itself
I’ll give you one underdog then you gotta swing by yourself
Then turn right around in that song and tell her you love her
And put hands on her mother, who’s a spitting image of her
That’s Slim Shady, yeah baby, Slim Shady’s crazy
Shady made me, but tonight Shady’s rocka-by-baby…

i did copy pasta’ed

i am kinda trying to write a book or something like that, here’s one chapter of it

speaking of which, bubbles!

According to wikipedia, A bubble is a globule of one substance in another, usually gas in a liquid. Due to the Marangoni effect, bubbles may remain intact when they reach the surface of the immersive substance. Soap bubbles can make rainbows in and on itself, what can be seen by observants surrounding it, with the help of sunlight or artificial lightning.

But, there are other types of bubbles, and anyone is susceptible to be raised or live in one. This type of bubble separates one from society, bringing the possibility of a lost of important strings that were possible to everyone outside the bubble, either the lost of chances to form those strings, or the cut of logical and emotional attachment of both sides of that lining.

Of course there are ways to break bubbles, it requires effort, as expected, it’s hard, it’s somewhat dangerous, and one will most likely be affected negatively by doing so. To leave a social-dynastical bubble, one must break their pretenses, know the world, go against everything that they’ve experienced before, just so can see the other side of the fence, and that is what hurts the most, going against the tide means going against something that supported one all their life, monetarily or emotionally, and that will most likely deny the descendant -at least in the beginning- , because such bubble wasn’t made out of nothing, it was built in a set of emotion, presets and knowledge that had much effort built into. Seeing that bubble implode out of thin air hurts, even more that the inheritee will sustain in his whole journey, collectively, and the builder will take the pain out of once, instead of with time -in case of the pupil-, and that pain will sore and scar one for life, reminding and draining the force of the mentor their whole life, until they finally drop dead or finally give up into madness.

And that strength that frank never had.




he was there. By himself, kept saying to himself that was his choice, his isolation was conditioned by the willingness to be alone, said that he couldn’t identify himself with nobody and that no one would understand his thoughts. He projected his emorions into the personality of others, just to create an excuse to not talk to them, he wasn’t self-aware, he couldn’t be, he had no experience of the path of self-knowledge, people criticized that to his face, he tried to change, but, as he expected, people don’t change, maybe that negative thought prevented him to change; wasn’t his fault neither, he was raised in a very protective enviroment, that never had him to develop a personality and self-thought until he started learning things for himself, to manipulate hard ocasions, even though the hardest it would get didn’t really matter, since he wouldn’t suffer any backlash, hence increasing the boy’s god-complexed, infant, and careless personality. A personality which he carried even after his self-aware awakeness, he knew the importance of changing over time, rather than abruptly, he only didn’t know that people don’t change, only appear to change.

so he did end up alone. In his room, masturbating, crying, dancing, cutting, writing, gaming, doing whatever he could to hide his sadness, even though everything he did was a cry for help, his body hated him, his appearance was deplorable, his conversations limited themselves to one or two replies, because he couldn’t care enough to talk to anyone (even though he used that as an argument to the “I chose to be alone” point), his works were becoming a lot more inconsistent in means of schedule and quality, it was noticeable, too noticeable, his sleep schedule was even more inconsistenr than his emotional state or the times that he was putting himself on a pedestal, as he would do in public, to avoid getting hurt or using self-deprecation that no one cared about, his refferences were becoming as obscure as they could get. He wasn’t fine, he’d only admit it to one person, and crypted that message to whoever followed him on social media, even though nobody cared anymore. “You will never be 100%”, he knew that, he knew that he was mentally unstable by interacting to other people, and never he could be fine again, “is 80% okay?”, he did think that as he made some poor life decision that led him to the worst time of his life, he wasn’t protected anymore, this was real, blood left his throat, temporarily vision impaired, everything that led to his choice of being alone.

But he had a life, had friends, had a family, couldn’t abandon all that because he was down, if he did, the consequences for them would be extreme, probably prison, and since he thought that much of himself, suicides and drug issues. there wasn’t anything that he could relate anymore in this world, he lived by the things that the others recommend to him, he liked a lot of them, he disliked some, like a normal human being, but with a single twist: his own personal taste was dispised by most, not even his close ones could enjoy what he really liked, what made him become more lonely, nobody was to blame, he understood that, yet, he blamed humanity for not liking and producing more of what he liked; “Thank god for his god complex” was a thing that no one in their right minds would say, which isolated him even more, at the point that he was living in his own little niche bubble, and, in the case that  he would interact with people outside, he would be analised as strange, peculiar, rather weird, but smart in a kinda way that I can’t explain, because it doesn’t make any sense to me, to hear those words that come out of that ignorant little mouth of his.

Interestingly enough, in all of his period of loneliness, he was either with really close friends that knew way too much about him, and if he knew too much about, or with a girlfriend that knew a tad more than his close friends, but never was introduced to them. and so he was alone because of him, bringing the fault to himself, to protect the others from his instability, that alone is enough to destroy a man, and so it did, and with more stuff to cover, it becomes less friends, untill he was really alone, couldn’t talk to anybody, drained out of his forces, it was like he was atlas and he was holding nix from colapsing into the earth, nix being his insecurities, his abnegations, his collection of sorrow, everything bad, and the earth being everything that he deemed worthy. All that without the responsibility of paying the rent, having to work, having responsibilities, he could only imagine what a hot mess he would be, even though everyone around projected that he would be really successful, like everyone around him. The thing is, he only thought of killing himself after finishing studying.

-ActuallyYou, this is not over




i will never learn to take care of a woman

and i mean that by heart. i will never master the habilities to make a mad woman go back to her former self, i will never learn how to and with what to gift a woman, i will never persuade a woman to get together with my own self, i won’t need a plataform to defend myself from a woman.

there is no sacrifice that i will make for a woman

neither for a man, there is no empathy toward them, both mean nothing for me, i can’t understand why anyone would, karma peharps, but this society doesn’t believe in karma, unless you are so rich that it isn’t a sacrifice to help another person.

i’ll do it for her

because she isn’t no simple one, she doesn’t have only basic descriptions of herself portraied on my mind, or i would like to think so.