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Our world but planet earth even this is an oxymoron. We have grown up meanwhile and took over, battling every day to save us, then the planet, this inappropriate mother of a bitch. We die trying. We kill trying. We fail trying. We succeed facing a hell of a downfall. But before we want to feel good about having reached out that far. Blood spitting. Tear drying. We created a monster, thrown together by the unacceptable state of a deeper rooting sickness. A buried desire. And the monster called love. Love which is one of many metaphoric tales for helplessness, our hopelessness, because deep inside each of us know, we fucked up. Pretty bad. We love to escape and get closer to a feeling not to a thought. A thought about how I do look like today, what do I have to organize today, so tomorrow is enough space for organizing new stuff. System chow. We are ruminates and shit eaters and cannibals, animals, bad in a human fucked up way, lost in a mesh of artificial intelligence, which could be another monster, the web monster maybe. Term is misleading though. We rained on this planet like a plague and grown up in its fertile lab, secure and safe. All what we do is dissembowlement. For sure there is something which bonds us, maybe if only the instinctive urge of survival. So there is hope. Always will be. But this was and will never be enough. We are this weird species destroying slowly and tragically precipitate not just our world into ruin. Suck it dry and someday later when sand will wind through the skeleton of human memory and memorials and all other heritage, forgotten. So the question is very simple, are we part of this planet or alien. Our own enemy, who created the concept of enemism. We are a hilarious bunch of masochists and sodomists motherfucking fuckers. We think we think and even if we would think we should call it only thinking if it is for the sake of being. Doesn’t make us look much better than an institution of design monsters dressing the world up for its final chapter, whenever that last breath will be taken. But it will mean after nothing if we didn’t have saved ourselves from the slavery of humanity. We have to get naked again. I can’t tell more than everything has been said thousand over thousand of times. But we manage to look good, at least from one perspective of the burning men show, that is most important, where is the point if there is stage, no spotlight, no heroes, no rewards and new fuel for hope, market expansion and a positive look into the future, because this is all and only what we care about. How do I look like tomorrow, today is already the excuse not to care of. All these books full of human inventions and achievements. Record of the stumble we baptized evolution. Doesn’t seem we moving forward frequently. All these books full of theories and explicability. Models to break down, systems dead born at dawn, these are the drillbits to get closer to the unbearable question why we are here. As if there would be someday a satisfying answer for us. An answer which unites us, which let us kill for the right reasons, which does not speak right. But is right. How will that happened. We can only fail our own arrogance. The arrogance to assume some being gives a shit about us after that mess we established, maintain, spit and polish like as if it would be the last straw or the gold medal for being fuckups. I know this is alll negative. But that’s the problem. With you guys. You do only accept a portion of but with the same heart you ask for reality. For the real life. Real. Wow. Enlightenment. Everything enlightened. And we will finally sit enthroned, understood, finally this voyage will an end and everything can be justified in this moment of conquer and triumph. Fantastic space and time is lurking on our doorsteps. Do we really think we are close, like to a breakthrough or sort of? Or are we more scared and petrified of the fact that this world will at one point not take any more. And this floating planet will be collateral damage- who cares about the planet then right. Either way, you can’t be serious claiming this goes in its principles an ok way. But we sacrifice, we throw ourselves on this pile of death, meaningless death, because it meant everything to each of them. We don’t care. We are actors, some more talented than others, which fulfill dreams, dreams we didn’t dream but have been told us they are fucking awesome and makes you happy and much better than you feel right now because there could be always something better and in general I deserve better! What do we have to loose? And if we would loose, wouldn’t be that bad? I am personally deeply disappointed of our performance. There is nothing, nothing, and also not that thing of a sparkle of something good in everything, no nothing good about. How can we look letting it happen only to be afterwards terribly sorry about it, and touched and awaken and put to sleep again after the next commercial break. That’s fucking creepy. I am ashamed of us. And full of anger. Endless painful anger I only have for you, world. You deserve so much better. It could be so much better. Humans should have never developed the ability of thinking in abilities. Skills. Competition. Rivals. Friends. Enrichment. Networks, more networks. More connections to other abilities, to create an impact, if doesn’t change anything or not, but for the beauty of a payday. Paying out. Life is finally paying out. Walking tall. Standing bold, being in control, sharing the world how good life can be if you only enjoy and appreciate the simple things and work your ass off. That’s insane, i hope we know that now. We are watching a freaky live show of a downfall, feeling it, a substantial wrongness which makes everything else impeachable and terribly pitiful. We are watching. Nothing is in control. It’s only a question of protraction. Get something out of before that ship sinks. I write this without regret but only shame. Because I am nothing as we all are. We only can mean something if we start stopping this sick issue cold meaning. This is our fate and doom. And when I finished with this, I will turn back on my computer – I am writing on my iPhone7+ right now live, and watch a TV show and make myself believe that this is what I need. Right now. Instead of questioning why I think I believe this is what I need right now. In all it’s limitations needless to say. Of course I can not have what I really think I believe what I want, not only need, I need a lot of things but also I want lots of more. Of course I can be at the beach right now. I could be here and just be here. Which is also fine. If the internet connection is solid, I am down with that.