Trying to Understand My Existence

There is a reason I write about the desert, and other places of beauty. When I’m out in the middle of nowhere; far from cities, institutions, or establishments, It feels awesome and secure. So I’ve come to the conclusion that humans are in a deep load of shit. They keep manifesting their oppression in different ways. If I write about the wilderness, it keeps me balanced. The images of mountains, trees, and wind, these beautiful dreams are painted to my memory, and they bring understanding. I hear the wind when I feel confined, or wherever oppression pervades.

Society is everywhere, and its confusion keeps growing stronger. Every now and then, life feels so useless. I’ve been alienated, and want nothing to do with the dreams and ambitions of the modernized world; for their dreams and ambitions might equal death, destruction and dehumanization. How else can one describe the problem? My own mental outlook is a burden, because I don?’ know how else to feel, or react? This superficial modern culture suffocates me; what a hell-hole of confusion! Even when I conceive new ideas, even they become recycled versions of the same old disease, a continuation of the same old destroyer. This is how it feels and this is why I write about the wilderness. Everything is so spacious and empty, and I am empty inside. If I know nothing, then I must be more human?

My opinion is, humans are weak, and I’m weak. That is truth, because my own pride sucks. My arrogance and prejudices suck. I detest them all, because they’re components of the disease. This is my assumption, but I think many others feel the same, and if there is only silence, we would never get anywhere

I know nothing. If an an observation is made, its nothing more then that.