An older post from a few weeks ago:
Keeping busy keeps you from looking at the miasma that is the emotional content of your mind
Anxiety or fear is a huge driver. No one wants to do this shit alone. Until they realize the crazy compromises that are required of you and that you require of them (your partner). Our eyes fade as our hearing does, so that as we age, we don’t kill each other with each of our madnesses.
Our madness is what largely drives us. Our fuckup crazy emotionally damaged inner lives. Some drink and drug to escape it, but there is no escape. The only way around it, is through it. To wrestle with the maddeningly damaged creatures that we are. Sometime’s a minute at a time, sometimes longer. But time doesn’t really exist, so you get to make up the measurement. So build your own world and how you wish to see it. Make it as beautiful as you wish. Or a war torn dystopia with violence at every edge and place. I am building mine. It’s fucked up, but that’s me, fucked up, broken and just a hair trigger away from pulling on the ejection handles. Not that it would do any good. It just a worthless reset through the river of sleep. Start over for the billionth time.
This must be why the gods are mad. If they experience pain and madness in unimaginable levels, how could we expect sanity? Sanity and quantum physics don’t go together at all. The smaller the particles get, the more we realize how nothing is what it seems at all.
Sentience is overrated.