state of mind E-Book

Rebecca Oldmark

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fachliteratur
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 180

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Imagine, interpret, sense and feel our world around us as if we are in it, and present among it, because at very many cases and very many moments we seem to forget we are human beings with great minds to explore and fulfil. I would for this book with its content to make one relate and comprehend our world in many different ways, forms and shapes to expand our everyday experiences and to expand our knowledge and our lives into something bigger than ourselves. There will be madness in my words but there will also be words seeking for help and support. There will be sentences and chapters which may feel confusing and there will be sentences filled with anger or frustration, but also there will be sentences filled with desire. This book is about reality. Nothing else.

Leseprobe

intro

At this very moment, I’m realizing the truth of me surely exposing myself in such naked and harsh way, thinking to myself, this is wonderfully magnificent.

I’ve decided to share, upset, disappoint, delight, cherish and hurt one or another within this masterpiece. I’ve also decided to be honest, fragile and loving.

This book is not about doing right or wrong, or being right or wrong, it is about being and it is about the reality. It will get messy and kind of all over the place and that is simply the point. Feelings and emotions are messy and therefore this book becomes messy, and not just a little bit, quite a lot and throughout the whole book pretty much. Just a heads up.

However, preferably you must not enjoy reading it, you must not continue, but instead interpret, sense and let your physique process every word. Also, at the end of the day, you do you, you could also put the book in the bin and that would be completely alright to me. Up to you. Last but not least, I do wish for you to maintain a pleasant reading with lots of tears, laughter and madness included.

dedicated to our mankind and to human beings with feelings

Contents

Part l

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part ll

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

The end

part l

fear, hatred, overwhelm, disorientation, disorganisation, misery

1

Resentment. Destruction. Boldness. Everything feels disappeared. Everything is fucked up.

Everything is far beyond my comprehension.

The world is consumed. I am consumed. I need to see the light but I do not want to. I want to be in another dimension and time. But I can not. I am expired. Light or dark, cold or warm, empty or full, I will always sense fear and heartache.

Flattering, innocent birds tweets and whistles outside my window while the fresh sea spring air breeze sends regards to my lungs and my body and my mind and soul. The rush of air blows my mind. I am addicted already. The sunshine explores my dark-stoned window sill through the curtains seeking for my attention.

However, I will not give my permission. Winds and the sunlight suddenly, quickly abandon me. Someone is afoot wandering with their almost unnoticeable footsteps towards my bedroom door.

My room is crowded with boiled up emotions, sensations and it gets dark. Black and white.

My head. My hand. My eyes. My mother, reaches for my head, my hand and my eyes.

The sky introduces an arranged meeting for the abundant clouds to release rain and thunder, my desires are fulfilled.

My mind is empty with words. I answer with a numb glance at my window.

She searches for an answer by starring into my eyes, but it is undeniably difficult.

As the door closes, I sense the atmosphere becoming very isolated. Non-social. All by myself, philosophising beyond reality, imagining the world upside down. Imagining myself in a bubble above the stars and in a place where nothing matters. Where I can breathe and be present. Imagining my mind of chaos functioning as a devil against my soul which conceives yet another reflection that again and again, every single day of action brings me damage.

2

Every goddamn organism breathing is beyond lighted and alive. Every goddamn creature appears as if they already lived. Every goddamn human being is imperceptible to me.

Yet I experience impressions and reflections making me the greatest departed heartbeat on earth. However, existence proofs me wrong and life will not choke me which all of a sudden eliminates my overall target within my psyche. My instinct and spirit that thrives for the conclusion of me being entirely erupted, slashed and destroyed within minutes. Within seconds. The magnificent fundamentals within my body are demanding change, pain, suffer, revenge, truth and hatred. My body capitulates. My mind sabotages. My soul transforms. Each and every section of my body screams for the universe to convert me into a concealed unreal mortal, dwelling of misery and sorrow.

Flavoured salty tears slithers down my flushed rosy cheeks from all the consumed alcohol, transforming me to an insufficient human being, according to my mind. Thrilling according to my head. Fucked up, naive, tragic spinning world for what? For who? Why?

WHY?

WHY?

WHY?

3

Rapidly, I choose to allow heavy music to radiate and stream through my system which with its tunes creates collateral energy within me. The harmony from the music allows me the freedom to sense acceptance and to feel comfort among my own presence. I demand wickedness. I demand perfect imperfection.

Nobody cares. Nobody listens. Nobody determines for our justice to flourish and thrive. I am fragile. I am incomplete. I am annihilated, far from home. Where is home? I am far from home. While tenderly making an effortless effort to approach my legs, knees and toes helping me to have the ability and strength to rise up, I acknowledge my breathing, inhaling, infrequently exhaling becoming adequately vivid. My heart beats fast. My head twirls and spins madly and I sense vomit will emerge. However, I will not accept for it to happen, I want to go outside.

As I am squeezing my eyes being spotted by sunlight, daylight and fresh air I get into action, I move ridiculously calm. Indeed, one hell of an awful feeling. I am not convinced. I am not satisfied. I am not ready. I am frightened, jacked up.

Tree crowns. Looks dangerous. Yet marvellously life depending. Strange. Cautious birds expresses their morning spirit through their voices. The shades of nature makes me dizzy and safe. It is glorifying how supernatural and yet evil the life of mother nature doubtlessly is. Life kills life. An endless era of slaughter. Kill. Kill. Kill. How beautiful.

What is life and for what desire and purpose do we exist? For what purpose do we breathe?

Do we deserve life? Why are we here? Why?

Why are human beings entirely different, yet still reflections of one another? When is the end? Why am I still present among this universe? Among this spinning sphere, green and blue, black and yellow still fighting for life.

Why? Why am I here?

WHY?

WHY?

WHY?

The pain I carry evolves into rage and fear inside and it starts controlling me, screaming at me. Yet I could not afford to be heard, to be seen, acknowledged. I demand for my heart to be destroyed and my brain to get wrecked, and my mind and soul to fade away. Life is wonderfully miscellaneous. Magnificently odd and foreign. Secretive.

I proceed to walk forward, through wind and sunshine discovering an overwhelmingly moderate piece of view from a rock sitting down while gazing over the sea. I wish I could say it was astonishing.

Heart is in charge. It beats similarly to a freak.

My body temperature rises as if I were to be placed within the engines on Titanic. I then peek at the imperfectly organic view of the sea and I sense acceptance for my lungs to breathe. I sense acceptance for my vulnerability to show through watery eyes and restless legs while being psychologically fatal.

Suddenly, while smelling a combination of fresh soil and warmed up cliffs heated by the shining sun I realize the very emptiness within me passionately thirsting for food. At the same time I force my myself to not admit the starvation of mine. I warrant myself into abstain from every desirable need for remaining in this world.

Anxiety hits me. As if the very roots beneath the flesh and bones of mine were to become an absolute abysm. As if entirety were nothing but an endless path of utter destruction.

Further more, why do humans have the authority in ruling our planet? Why did such arrogant piece of organisms ever get the honour to be established on earth? In today’s world, we are challenging a nightmare, misery, non indulgent souls which always, likely end up existing behind a microphone reaching millions of thousands of humans convinced by the naive, irresponsible, senseless words of him or her. Brainless bastards. Even more extraneous, the organisms behind a (motherf****ing) microphone have the extraordinary freedom in assembling our horrid piece of society. What array of humankind civilisation are we conscious in?

Where is all the deliberations about uniting humans no matter what religion or ethnicity they belong to, no matter what language you express yourself through, no matter your skin colour or visual examination we should accept and respect each other? Where? When? Why?

It is remarkably baffling to me. All of it. My mind is convoluted, overwhelmed by impressions and philosophies and theories there is, devastated by the arrogance among humanity, mentally disorientated because of the eternal growth of uncontrollable abundant voices in my head, telling me the worst significant pieces of information one could ever knowledge and be a part of. While my head swirls I seize my moms gaze when stepping forward through the front door expecting a consciously odd gaze from myself saying more than a thousand words.

Unquestionably I select my final destination back from the walk and undeniably it ends up being my very personal dead room. The place to completely be all by myself doing whatever I want to do. The place to feel safe. The place to be free. Free from every imaginable obstacle and burden. Allow me to be. Just be.

4

I am laying in this bed waiting for disappointment not only from me but my parents, my whole environment. Cause it speaks to me every goddamn day. You are not enough. You are worthless. You are nothing.

Stop trying. Stop seeing. Stop sensing. Stop being. Stop breathing. Stop living.

A woman in drooping, casual clothes walks up on me. She appears lightly. I tenderly putting on a slightly lively expression. She locates her confined narrow feet one by one, one after another as we wander through a mentally threatening hallway making me feel very uncomfortable. As we walk, other doors are widely accessible where psychologists and therapists hints with an awfully penetrating sort of smirking expression as I am passing by.

Every millionth section of me wants to go back to my free place at home. I do not want to be here. I do not want to see this human being, calling herself a therapist. I refuse to be here. I am already aware that I will eventually ending up consuming and cracking tens of tons of unfamiliar capsules only making everything even more widely condemned and outrageous. Fucking brilliant.

I can not let myself breath in this disgusting environment. The fundamental questions of hers makes me dizzy in this ridiculously harsh room that has no fucking air in it. My blood pressure surges and streams through the broken figure of mine transforming my cheeks to appear blushed. I feel ashamed, wretched, I feel tenacious and clingy. At the same time wondering why my parents took me here. Why am I here? I hate myself for making them feel in a way that they had to take me to this place, confronting not only myself but to them, to a therapist. I am the reason. I am the reason I am fucked up. I could not reply or justify. I am not capable of it. I am not persuasive enough.

I am devoted to serenity and tranquility just sitting in the room as if the room were abandoned.

My delicately aroused mother speaks with an acid voice.

Can I have a cigarette? I ask.

I leave them alone. I leave the room. I see a small balcony and it is almost like it is waiting for me to be stepped on to have my cigarette.

It is talking to me. Last inhale of that life changing tobacco and I am back in the room.

I act naive, ignorant and unsophisticated. I shut my eyelids, obstructing my ears, squeezing and forcing my feet to make physical contact with the completely futile couch and lastly locating my hands on my face. I scream. I am screaming and howling, crying and screaming.

I scream.

Unpleasantly according to my parents gaze, frightening according to the doctors response.

My mother and the doctor keeps on having this conversation while all I could ever think of is getting out of here. That is all I want. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to get out of here. I zoom out.

5

I pray, truly pray for my mind and soul to be adept of being present within another dimension and world, within another time and place, another present time. I am beseeching and pleading, calling upon for help to find me.

Guidance and love to find me. The lost and never found. Me. Presently, I am arranged and available and prepared for each desirable provocation and incitement being offered to me in order to extent the very end of me in whatever design and shape it will be presented.

Endlessly and eternally. I am awaiting for our abominable society to burst, to split and explode into a million little pieces, into vanished souls and bodies all in one wonderful disorder and chaos. I am wishing for a sheer marvellous end where every bit of organism, within the wild, the supernatural and within the present existence gets affected by the intention and aim of truly pursuing an excelling life and growth where being present and available and grateful and loving are in the centre of attraction. I do not care about belongings, THINGS which carries and transports nothing but physical objects defining and meaning unquestionably, precisely NOTHING. Nothing. Nothing at all.

6

14th of June, another sunrise, another day and its light. As my eyes awakens, my legs shakes to prepare for everything this day has to offer, and my brain sheerly develops into this mood which includes senses and thoughts and beliefs that today is all about fearing myself, destroying myself. I sensed it the moment I woke up and it does not even bother me. Also, it is fucking ridiculous how one person in this world beliefs she will help me with her existence of nonsense with her undeniably social norm related process of work with evolving me into some kind of ”normal” person in this society which other human beings will appreciate, of course, because what people want is normal, simple, copies of each other, segregation which to me means ugliness, death to our mind and souls, confusion, an era of conservatism; plastic, fake society, plastic, fake human beings walking around being extremely non attractive in any kind of way. It is ugly as fuck. Unattractive as fuck, ridiculously grisly, embarrassing. Look at how our world evolves and develops. I sense and experience sadness among a lot of people every day, both familiar and strangers who with their blank eyes tell me everything I need to know about them. Their souls are in their eyes. Their struggles and obstacles shown through their way of being, way of expressing their selfs, way of appearing to other people, way of seeing their world, our world. Our mind is our source to existence, our will to exist. People looses their minds. Some of them wants to, some of them do not know they have already lost their mind. Some of us already know but do not bother to do anything about it. I am one of them.

7

It is dazzling and pleasing how I do not recognise myself anymore. This atmosphere with cigarette smelling walls and ceilings, empty fulled apartment in the middle of the hipster’s square, feeling utterly alone yet still crowded around the emptiness. I feel allowed like never before to actually and really express my feelings and emotions where no one hears me, no one sees me, no one recognises me. I am new to them, I am a foreign. Suddenly I feel free. Free to exist with no one around me.

Is that alright? Alright. Then leave me alone for a few minutes. Please.

I am incapable of being around other humans.

Being social. Being present. Being around other people. I can not. I can not breathe around people. People frightens me. People demands, they expect, react, talk, walk, looks at you, stare at you, scans you. People exist.

But not in an enjoyable way. People destroys humanity. Humanity transforms our world into an underground. Cherishing people is erroneous. People hurt other people. It seems to be an instinct throbbing other people, making them perceive ache and soreness.

Making them remember and put thoroughly on their mind a specific situation or mention causing an infinite pain which therefore causes one joining the dark, joining soreness, joining “what’s not there”. People are frightening and as far as I am concerned I seem to frighten people as well.

8

I started dazzling at a book cover. I gave the words a slight glance and I started to barely read as well. I peaked at the ending and then I realised I believed this is more than just a book, more than words. Although all I see is letters, commas, capital letters, small letters, dots and question marks. I have read before, but mostly for another reason, to please someone else and make another person proud.

That is what school does to you. This one however feels different. Reading, is to me extremely individual and personal, especially when it comes to finding the rare time and place and peace to do so and to intimately enjoy the book. That is all it is about, coming to peace and let the words escape into your mind. To let the story become something else to one than ”just a story”, because there is always something else behind that book cover, behind every page, just read carefully and you will see it. Or you will not. That is when you start realizing, is it just a book or is it more than that?

This day, cloudy as hell, reckless and weak, I want to read. In fact that is all I want to do right now, maybe even put some gin in my coke when nobody is around.

9

Sunlight. Where everything allows to be observed and discovered, making every wretched truth suddenly being putted on the display among a lot of other even more ugly truths and they suddenly appear undeniably clearly. In sunlight, every bit of detail, wonderful or not, shows so innocently, perfectly fine to a point it seems supernatural.

With sunlight it presents everything as we would to be in an everyday fairytale of melancholy and miserable souls walking around, dead yet still alive. Their brains collapse, their hearts were heartbroken, their bodies could not move. So what? Yet, still they are here. Currently, staring at human beings walking past the rotten park bench I without hesitation wanted to try out, sit on it, lay down on it. Collapse on it. Oh, and I just did. Then, unremarkably I woke up. Poured myself another glass of red wine. It is brilliant and sensationally beautiful how innocent these leaves look because of the sunlight. Everything looks so alive, thriving, the trees looks young and playful, the grass swirls and gets fitted by the wind appearing as the seaweed on the very bottom of the ocean among an infinity of sparkling life. Life. Life. Life. Where is all this life coming from? How do you live such life?

How do you create such life? I want to know, I want to be apart of it. But also I don not, I do not want to be a part of something beautiful, because that would be a lie. I want to miserably pause and stay at this bench looking at the very refinements of life but I don not want be a part of it. How come inhaling and exhaling would be such explicit thing? How come eyes are so beautiful? How come souls and minds thrives as nature would see it.

Because everybody have them, everybody carries it, everybody do it to hit life. To survive we inhale and exhale, to see and experience, see another soul we have eyes, to connect and present yourself we have our mind and soul.

You could stare into someones eyes on the subway, stare at the environment, stare at yourself and suddenly you will see this world no one could ever show you but yourself.