“There’s always gonna be a part of me that’s sloppy and dirty but I like that, with all the other parts of myself. Can you say the same about yourself fucker?”
I’m a mess of person. I don’t mean that gravely or bleakly, I mean that my life is just a mess full of mystery, anguish, confusion, love, and happiness. There’s much I don’t understand and I don’t think that I ever will; I’m just chaos in a body that doesn’t really belong anywhere. I think perhaps I’ve spent too much time trying to be someone or something I’m not, because I genuinely have no idea who the hell I am or what the fuck I’m supposed to do with my life. My mentality is my greatest riddle, my biggest challenge, my ultimate quality, and my worst enemy all in one.
I would have put absolutely everything I had into you. And you didn’t even consider the same - in fact, I don’t think anything of the likes ever crossed your mind.
I don’t know who I am as a person, and sometimes I think I never will.
“Give me something good, I’ll destroy it. Love me, I’ll destroy you.”
What I want most in life right now: a mother fucking nose ring. Mother fuckers.
“While that’s all fine and dandy, while I get that, while I’ve ‘been there, done that,’ I don’t want that tonight. I don’t want that for any of the “tonights” in the foreseeable future”
From “Future of an Illusion”
“Having thus taken our bearings, let us return once more to the question of religious doctrines. We can now repeat that all of them are illusions and insusceptible of proof. No one can be compelled to think them true, to believe in them. Some of them are so improbable, so incompatible with everything we have laboriously discovered about the reality of the world, that we may compare them - if we pay proper regard to the psychological differences - to delusions. Of the reality value of most of them we cannot judge; just as they cannot be proved, so they cannot be refuted. We still know too little to make a critical approach to them. The riddles of the universe reveal themselves only slowly to our investigation; there are many questions to which science to~day can give no answer. But scientific work is the only road which can lead us to a knowledge of reality outside ourselves. It is once again merely an illusion to expect anything from intuition and introspection; they can give us nothing but particulars about our own mental life, which are hard to interpret, never any information about the questions which religious doctrine finds it so easy to answer. It would be insolent to let one’s own arbitrary will step into the breach and, according to one’s personal estimate, declare this or that part of the religious system to be less or more acceptable. Such questions are too momentous for that; they might be called too sacred. At this point one must expect to meet with an objection. ‘Well then, if even obdurate sceptics admit that the assertions of religion cannot be refuted by reason, why should I not believe in them, since they have so much on their side - tradition, the agreement of mankind, and all the consolations they offer?’ Why not, indeed? Just as no one can be forced to believe, so no one can be forced to disbelieve. But do not let us be satisfied with deceiving ourselves that arguments like these take us along the road of correct thinking. If ever there was a case of a lame excuse we have it here. Ignorance is ignorance; no right to believe anything can be derived from it. In other matters no sensible person will behave so irresponsibly or rest content with such feeble grounds for his opinions and for the line he takes. It is only in the highest and most sacred things that he allows himself to do so. In reality these are only attempts at pretending to oneself or to other people that one is still firmly attached to religion, when one has long since cut oneself loose from it.”