Hi, night

Night,

How are you? I hope you’re doing very well in your time. My ocular myokmia has gone for a while, the veins don’t pump now. I like the time when you’re hear to hug me with all the darkness. The fake darkness which my mind possesses, the fake validations my mind is trying to seek from you. I love listening to songs at night and go to sleep with the songs. I can sleep without the songs too, but as I said there’s a faker inside me who wants to fake things for the sympathetic outsider. I specifically like listening to songs which were wooven with a lot of pain and emotions in them. To me the people who are able to do that are the real artists and probably they have produced the best form of art. Their lives are probably not admiring or to be worth living, but the ripple they created was wide, wide and very wide. I like to learn from them. I want to wove a sweater full of emotions on it. Bands like My Chemical Romance, Blink-182, Linkin Park are probably the best. There might be so many others in this world which I’m not aware of. I’m adamant to entertain any suggestions, hence I know a selective piece of these magicians. I’m fine with knowing less about a lot of ripples, because I like knowing deeply about few ripples more. Some people are shouting in the inside, drawing to be observed, writing to be read, singing to be heard and I want to understand the artists. Of course, I’m very picky that is because I have a taste of my own in things.

I look at emotions as silk. The fine thread of silk. The fine thread of silk which comes from the cocoons of silk worms. Every artist is inside the cocoons because of the phases of their life, but, one day the volcano erupts and they’ll start singing melodies. To ease themselves and find a way through things for themselves. Their art is expressing everything about them. They start with their feet on the ground. Slowly, time becomes a good friend and makes sure it will keep on going. Then, the artist is handled by gravity in a state of mind where its all the itchy, painful and amazed creativity which is going to lead the blind, deaf and dumb.

I grew up bragging and claiming that one day, I’ll be in a state where I won’t be empty stomached. My addiction to learning everything will help me. I don’t know how true that will turn out. I won’t let that time come on me. I was learning the fundamentals of every art in my childhood. I learned fundamentals of music and how to listen, I did a lot of bad sketches and learn’t how to call things bad, I learned reading and writing to understand and learn that there is no fundamental limit to anything your mind thinks. I want the words to flow until I want to close myself from the inside. What sounds good to me won’t sound the same to the world. I learned the fundamentals of football thinking some day it will become helpful after enjoying it a lot in my childhood. I want to learn teaching people because I want to tell them what amazes me and how they should find what amazes them. I walked towards the lava of learning multiple things every day. And, I’m fine with it. The art is for me and my mind. The art is giving me the amusement and even if I tell people about how cool things are, I don’t expect them to love and feel amused as I do or go berserk about them the way I do. I want to draw different things, invent something of my own. Invent my own style of writing, invent my style of drawing. Because, I want to know if is invention any real in this world ? I can link one inspiration, I think I can now conclude that originality is very adamant and very abstract. The term is broader than I was thinking about it. I don’t mean to materialize everything but try to think of it. The box gets bigger and bigger, the problems come and the things inside box help you fight with the problem. I don’t know if I want to stay hungry for the sake of art and loose my mind to a lot of things other than focusing on one. Maybe, I’m fine with it. It could also be my immature mind speaking things like a free bird.

When you come to me, I feel like i’m in this trance state of mind where I’m not real and I’m just in the dream the whole night. The things I write backfire me every day. The self-awareness kills the happiness and happiness is like the letter which was sent to me, but the postman lost my letter while he was on the cycle of life and death. Day by day, my mind keeps moving and my mouth goes dead about things which matter and might help me. I do try to talk, sometimes. But, the conflict of thoughts confuses people into categorizing me into where I don’t want to be. I like being ostracized, and I don’t think its bad. I want to be different, the fact that I’m writing all these things out is probably what will make me different. The fact that I entertain everything in mind, might be making me different. The fact that i’m so lovable to putting a tape on my mouth and punching myself to death is probably making me different. The fact that, the world is different in my view is different ? I want to agree that everyone is different and so am I. I want to be really, really ostracized. I want to tell the world, “Don’t you worry child, I will burst the bubble in my mind myself one day. And I will also make sure the sound from the burst is audible to the whole world”. The fact that I’m sitting and writing my simple and real life as it is also letting me be under the blanket and feel warm. The fact that, I am encouraging grammar mistakes more so that this junky grammar mistakes are a way for me to feel happy about myself some point in time ahead. None of this will ever make the Kotou feel proud.

I beg a part of the holy trinity to not ask so many questions, but it still does. It’s my mind in un-contrallable control of myself. The thoughts don’t need validation, they’re just like waves hitting the shore. They’re just currents in my mind which I’m thinking about. I beg and shout at it saying, “I’m the one confused and don’t make more and more confused that I loose hang of what I am. I even have a realization of this, what more do you want ?”. The word questions is so deep for me as of now. I can think of so many things about the word which is spelled q-u-e-s-t-i-o-n, “Question”. I have questions like, “Okay fine, cry about it now, but I will ask you if that was real or not, tomorrow. I will question you who it was writing at night. I will question you who it is in the morning. I will question you if you really are adamant or not. I will really question about the reality of your thoughts. I will question you fucker, that do you even care about art? What is the extent of the care in your mind ? I will ask you why the fuck are you writing these things so raw ? What validation and desperate sympathy are you asking for ? I will make sure you will lose hope in yourself. I will tell you every day that your parents know nothing. I will really fuck you with questions, I mean it, when I say it.”. The snake will eat its own tail, but still stay hungry.

I like that I’m talking to you so much today. I like the fact that you never change and are a mirror to me, I feel like I’m also the holy trinity. Multiple different personalities lying within one single mind. I feel, I feel, I feel that it is so hearty of you. The buildings are too high for me to stare at and sleep. But, probably songs will surely put me to sleep way faster than I will imagine, beacuse there is really no sleep issue in me like I had before.

Good night, Morning is waiting. The other person is waiting.