About you, my dear Gustav.

imageimageI do envy you every day more and more, pussycat, I adore you in a full meaning of this so amazing term, my dear, not only beacuse you are in your black and green basic colors so beautiful to my eyes, but also cause your meow are direct, clear and with a purpose, thats it, limited in thinking or in goals…
Damn, I must have been a cat in all my past lifes, for sure, and that is why I am condemned in thi first and last, live as a human, nonono, as a ‘f..overthinking-humanbeing’!
imageimageWe are dying from overthinking.
We are slowly killing ourselves by thinking about everything.
Think. Think. Think.
You can never trust the human mind anyway. It’s a trap.
True saddness is when someone still thinks you are the same person after years.
They brand you because of their own ego, fear & lack of essence.
Still, I am a victim of a conjunction, considering purity in any way you wanna refer it as a goal, among overthinking and the worst imperfection I live with, namely, exhale an instant as the first and the last, living in every second as it is were the only one – nono, those are words overvalued – since we create a moment not from the scracth but from everything we keep with us, so that not the instant without the context.
Forgetting this is a high percentage of incurring into a fatal mistake.
But I have no idea how to deal with…
“…’s sickness of the soul, as I now know,
is not the eccentricity of a single individual,
but the sickness of the times themselves, the neurosis of that generation to which he belongs, a sickness, it seems, that by no means attacks the weak and worthless only but, rather,
precisely those who are strongest in spirit and richest in gifts.”

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf.image
(There are more about him,black cat)


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