January 2010
15 posts
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Thinking is Useless...?
JY: What are you doing?
CO: Thinking...trying to organize my thoughts
JY: (looks disgusted) WHY? That is the stupidest thing to do. "Thinking". ekk.
CO: What do you mean? I just want to organize my jumbled up thoughts--
JY: Because my boyfriend used to do that. And he would just sit and 'think' for hours because he was 'sad'. I hated it. What the fuck. Thinking is useless because the more you think deeply into things the more you get depressed. That's why we broke up.
CO: ....I just need to prioritize what I need to do first...
JY: Then write it down! Put it into words! And crumple it up and you don't have to think about it again!
CO: -_-;;; I don't know what you mean by that... I mean I do write 'TO DO' lists and stuff..
JY: Then that's it! No more thinking. Thinking gets you depressed.
...is this true..?
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Symptoms: Borderline Personality Disorder
Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment
A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation
Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self
Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse,...
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Art is either plagiarism or revolution. Paul Gauguin #art #quotes
– artsharksnet
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Tumblr.....fail.
There are no purposes of these blogs anymore because it just seems like people are reposting someone else’s pictures/photos/drawings/etc.
There is no meaning behind them, and no opinion, for the most part. This sucks.
And what exactly is ‘tumblarity’? seriously. If it refreshes on a weekly basis, which day of the week does it refresh? And if someone reposts someone else’s...
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The REAL purpose of this blog?
(Hmm. I’ve been staring at the computer screen point blank for the past few minutes to come up with some kind of a clever intro. ah, to hell with it)
The real reason? there is none.
I just wanted to comfort my brain, who seems to cry out every few seconds, wailing its arms like wild fire and complaining to me about where I am going with life, who I am, what I am, where I belong. It’s...