Many of you, I hope, has read Dostoevsky. He coined the term "the underground man". The man is a morbid being, not interested anything but his own hate against life.
I quote Thomas Ligotti here (On morbidity):
"Isolation, mental strain, emotional exertions, visionary infatuations, well-executed fevers, repudiations of well-being; only a few of the many exercises practiced by that specimen we shall call the 'morbid man'. And our subject of supernatural horror is a vital part of his program. Retreating from a world a world of health and sanity, or at least one that daily invests in such commodities, the morbid man seeks the shadows behind the scenes of life. He backs himself into a corner alive with cool drafts and fragrant with centuries of must. It is in that corner that he builds a world of ruins out of the battered stones of his imagination, a rancid world rife with things smelling of the crypt. - - The morbid man does not appear to be doing himself or others any good."
That it is what I'm, a morbid man. I can see just the dim light. We disappear, we keep returning back - and for what reasons? Karma? We are trapped in this hell. I don't believe in mankind. Perhaps there will be progress, but I doubt that. I'm escaping to an illness - the only way possible for my kind. Have a good life. It is not for me.
Comments
COME ON, LEFTIUS ! why do YOU try to usurp/enroach-upon my titles & pretend to be a member of such an exclusivyst club ?
... in case YOU're wondering - do i look like i'm joking?
- yo, hi dinosaur - did a guy named Noah call you lately?
- no...
- bomer...
I think is a good idea
= translation - this gathering HERE is randomly on purpose & everything in-between.