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My trauma response is peculiar. Yk I should've been working but I've spent weeks writing many fictional dialogues that represent my tragedy, both at work and at home. I stopped working on my tasks like a weird manic, my boss has been giving me warnings, but I just couldn't resist the desire to put my pathological thoughts into writing and post them on my Instagram. It's just something very therapeutic to use words and images to represent my current reality, I find it very redemptive and it helps me to evolve my negative emotions too. It's nice to see that I don't turn into toxic coping mechanisms, it's nice that I don't torture myself to death but instead I escape to the quasi-fantasy world with fiction figures wrestling philosophical concepts with each other. What am I then? a weirdo it is! and it's so nice to see people giving me positive feedback and saying nice things to my little alphabetic crafts. I think, whatever I'm doing, points to the ultimate function that Sigmund Freud tried to utilize with his "Free Association" therapy technique. I want to write a thousand books, I want to shock people with novelty, I want to create the greatest ripple, and articulate reality with stories, drama, tragedies, sins, and virtues. I want to define God, I want to deconstruct reality, I want to drag the divine down to our conceptual world and I want to be killed in the process, I want to be burned and I wish to scream in agony along with the killer trajectory, I want people to both harass and praise my works, I want fights and battles and deaths and rebirths. I don't want happiness, I want meaning, I want chaos, I want tears and I wish to suffer to aim for the greatest ultimate far in this damned starless night. I wish to touch God with my pathetic, trembling gesture that speaks to my desire to see his face.
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