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  • Artist Info: November 28th 2008<br />
    I can’t seem to shake this feeling of dissatisfaction, disappointment, and lack of passion; it’s an inability to feel positively excited. There is this separation between the me that I observe with, and the me that is my thoughts, emotions, and my physical body. When I was a child sometimes I would look down at my hands and stare at them until they didn’t look like they were mine anymore, I would be very still and watch them turn into something alien. Now that I’m an adult the feeling can encompass not only my hands but my entire body, and on up to my thoughts and emotions. Everything that happens around me, and everything that I am feels so distant and detached. Like I’m not really here, like none of this is what’s really me. These feelings are making me feel more and more of this kind of a division between myself and society, in my solitude I contemplate my existence in the world, I can see meaning and purpose in the lives of others, and to some degree meaning and purpose in my own life, but the significance seems somehow lost. My thoughts, my body, my family, my world, my concept of God; none of it is eternal. Nothing I know reaches out into infinity and lasts. Everything dies and changes, I feel like a caterpillar, who turns into a butterfly, who eventually turns into wormfood, who eventually turns into compost, who eventually turns into a flower and on and on and on. I feel like I’m just a recycling bin for atoms; expending energy/acquiring energy in an endless cycle. Like I’m some part of the thing but not the total of the thing itself. <br />
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    November 29th 2008<br />
    There is a mirror that runs parallel to my bed on my closet door, when I woke up this morning I rolled over in bed and looked at the reflection. There was this strange sense of perception that came over me where I saw myself and did not look at it and think of it as me. I looked at it and thought you. I felt a great sense of satisfaction in that realization. Like the part of me that the rest of the world sees is just a reflection of them, but that I, the I that is the real me, is the equivalent of something that has no container, no body that it has to act with, and no mind that it has to think with, I felt myself in the air in my bedroom, outside myself as well as inside; moving in and out of my lungs rhythmically. The feeling lasted only as long as it took me to awaken completely. Then it was gone and the reality of my existence fell back upon me.<br />
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    November 30th 2008<br />
    I feel weak. I’m always tired, like I could sleep the rest of my life away and still never be satisfied. One reason that comes to mind is the physical fatigue; I feel fatigued all the time for no apparent reason other than maybe some kind of atrophic response to being overly sedentary. Secondly there is this sense of wonderment I have toward sleep; and the experience of dreaming in particular. I feel so ‘in control’ of myself in my waking life, like every function I do; every breath I take is some type of a conscious effort on my part, and the burdens of even the smallest responsibilities I have to work very hard to handle with courage and wisdom. But when I sleep I submit to my sub-conscious, I let the unconscious side of myself take over, and it feels like I don’t have to take any responsibility. In my dreams I am capable of good or evil, bravery and cowardice. I freely rape and murder without hesitation. Where in my waking life even the thought of causing others harm hurts, and even makes me cry when I see the trauma suffered by victims of such brutalities. I feel so unattached and liberated in my dreams like I’m just free to exist without being bothered for the future, or the consequences of my actions. I don’t have to worry about other people because in my dreams no one exists but me, and that solipsistic knowledge makes me feel relaxed and contented. Physically I want to sleep all the time, emotionally I want to sleep all the time, and psychologically I want to sleep all the time.<br />
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