the Beginning. Now. Yesterday.
it is not known when this all started. The memory stole, by passing time, changed, sold, bought and gave something else. Since you know exactly what you don't want and absolutely don't know what you want. Traces do not count and all about, are in the dark forest, but all around it, there is neither day nor night, there is only time to escape. Let them talk, let them think you were gonna be like that, and there is no shadow on the ground, which would not fall from you, for you are the one who casts a shadow in the glow of the surrounding beacons. This condition is akin to fatigue from waking up early in the morning, you're still there, but already here and there is no clear sense of self, there is only the will and forcing yourself, and you are still there on the other side of sleep, with their real wishes and lack of understanding why it is that way. This is when you have a sense of physical inability to think and realize this state is the place where you arrive most of the time, halfway between dream and reality. a
Difficult to understand who is the enemy and who is friend and suddenly the friend is not a friend, well, enemy – he's not so bad. And that's so hard to convey with words and meanings, it is all that elusive-thick as a panic attack – an inexplicable, but completely accurate and real. Everything seems so authentic in the Museum with a good name, quiet floors and high ceilings. This condition is so real that not even a little bit to question it, at least for a little doubt the correctness of their judgments. Although, everything we do, we still do in the framework of his personality and about the correctness of the question. We begin to see a glimmer of objectivity, just being with someone, the other for us as a measure of our degree of error. But how sad it is hard understanding his inability to see ourselves!!! You won't even know that all of your arguments, it's just a way to explain their own inability to be himself. All we can figure is we are not going to be as we desire to be.
do You imagine life without this inability to understand himself? I'm not really. I can't completely step back and find yourself exactly where I stepped. Do you think this can be possible? Maybe so, perhaps. I often think, can, in principle, to be such that we can be his expression of the subject, or in other words, if I can do what I want? This is the interval between I and I is the space, the blind spot, about which I write, and that in an emphasis do not see you (and me too). In this space everything is lost, and people, and thoughts, and time. This space – perhaps our inner world, so tiny in his huge ego, such a distorted and distorting.
You really want to be one? Alone with my empty mirror in which you see yourself and communicate only by their imagination about yourself that doesn't even know who you are. To answer you, imagination calling to the aid of people and circumstances, she tries to reproduce exactly your world, and you rejoice when they see matches. And do you see them often, because they have you. Do you really still want to be one?
Space, and I'll take you to the shackles of ignorance and arrogance, will leave you items of someone's stupidity and make them to praise. An amusing game, nothing more.
to love tomorrow, today, can you remember what you did not yesterday.

Maksym Stefanenko
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