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Selective Empathy

  A selective empathetic is a more sinister evil than the outright unempathetic. The unempathetic is quite small in numbers, and are under more scrutiny. The selective empathetic is one of reflective desire, picking and choosing those to be glad for and wishing to prosper based off of desired personal gain, gain that involves putting others down in the process. This level of empathy is pure submission to outside preachers, outside systems, media, literature, art, and economics, and represents a dark and fallible inner sense. Letting things simply happen, apathetic to their greater truth, nihilistic in meaning, and a walking product of guiding forces around them. A pure empathetic is empathetic to all in all situations, noticing the humanity in all. It is sad to notice the selective empathetic being a prevalent and lauded endeavor, when the qualities of such selective empathetic are thought of also as manipulation. A great contradiction in social morality and personal character judgeme

๐Ÿ“” Journal Entry 1: Snowflakes.

 Reconvening, in and out of reality, was a single man's thought. Oh, how this man was confused... There seemed to be pearls in his eyes one moment, and the next he were to be in a not-so-lovely place. Things just happened around him.

Thoughts were splashing on a canvas in his mind. People from different corners of his social group gathered as he entered a new reality. Piles upon piles of emotions developed in a single notion. And then poof, feeling still remaining, but experience readjusting for a different life. And suddenly, sitting again here comes the unreal, doubts crossed his mind as he rose to the tower tops of the world. The only thing he had to blame was everyone and everything. He hated all as he put all of his twigs of doubt, reluctance, hatred, annoyance, guilt, deceit, and evil all bundled up next to a stone of his root. He burned this pile of twigs, and watched as they manifested in hallucinations of different times and places. In one eye, he saw his father suffering, dying, crying for help and he couldn't stop it. In his other eye, he saw his father, drunk, abusing him and his mother, rampaging through his household. The two intertwined in an amalgamation of mixed feelings as he transported back to reality. It's almost as though he didn't know exactly what had happened, but he never forgot.

This cycle would continue throughout the day, then throughout his week, the month, and even years went by. Over and over and over again the man entered different worlds, and different worlds created new places in his mind to explore. 

And this is where we come in. We are simply existing with guilt being permanent. Permanence destroys ourselves. Everyone will know, and then no one will know. We are fucked. 

When things aren't meant, there will still be a record of it, and it will disappear.

After we disappear into a different dimension, the brain will tell us what it wants there. We will feel anxiety, paranoia, indecisiveness, guilt, and, most importantly, fear. Oh Lord.

Vanishing through our body, our mind will think bodily distortion, and worth. The horizon has described NOTHING. We're disowned. Most of us will not be religious, but we will think religiously. Grouped together with the horror of life, all of us will be gone.