Quasi-Stellar Radio Source

When I was young—I can never distinguish human age between 5 and 10 so suffice to say I was small and defenseless—I found myself separated from my parents in a busy mall. I can only recall the moment I saw my parents walking away one floor above and scurrying up an escalator to be with them. I was young, emotionally charged, and with undeveloped cognitive functions that inhibited me from realizing I was trying to go up a descending escalator. My little legs could not power me up against the seemingly powerful force dragging me down. There, blurry vision, screaming at the retreating backs of my parents, in that moment the thought that I might be completely alone found its place to me for the first time.

This is the earliest memory I have of my existence.


To sit atop your throne inside your cerebral cortex (The I)

Who am I, and have I always been there?

I am who I am, but who is the “I”? Rather, what is the “I”?

The “I” is an amalgamation of genetics and environment. Part of who you are is encoded in your DNA.

We seem to develop an understanding of who we are through the practice of introspection and through external feedback. Introspection allows you delve into the subconscious and shine a light on your psyche to reveal the invisible threads that move you. External feedback provides the necessary information to calibrate the results of introspection.


I am who I am.

There probably exists no objectively good personality traits. The argument that extremes on either ends of a spectrum are unhealthy and ineffective goes without question. Extremely conscientious individuals might be successful at work but at the expense of their social life or intimate relationships. Highly agreeable people are more prone to being submissive and to be taken advantage of. If such extreme traits were to exist in a vacuum where their benefits could be utilized and their negative outcomes nullified, we would be able to point at objectively good traits.


I am everything that I am not.

What is inauthentic? A mirror that doesn’t reflect.

We call people inauthentic when they suppress their own personalities to reflect the personalities of others. The inauthentic behavior or emotion might reflect good values, meaning that authentic behavior does not necessitate just or decent behavior. Nonetheless, the implicit moral judgment is clear: truth, no matter how ugly or inconvenient, is preferable to a distorted reality.


Something I am not.

We cannot change what was encoded in our DNA, but we can strive to understand our disposition to steer them in the direction we want. Everything that’s inauthentic is reactionary and born out of an external pressure: people’s personalities dominate yours, society dictates its set of rules on you, and your beliefs are force-fed to you. Resistance is lonely and inconvenient. Authenticity is generated internally; once you understand who you truly are and why you are that way, you can begin to work on the internal structure of your being.


Authenticity: a parallel of thought and action guiding the individual on a track towards truth.

What is Love?

The most powerful summation in existence.

Thoughtful consideration. A seamless daydream. A practice in introspection.

That which abandons you the moment you start chasing it.

A distillation of hope into chemical reactions.

A reconciliation with the face in the mirror.

The universal common denominator.

Before Life

A punishment for failing to be authentic to the self you never recognized.

The strain of the perpetual self-imposed struggle against life.

A self-proclaimed savior possessing nothing but pain.

The threads you weave are treacherous. Your edicts are built on unquestioned preconceptions. The voice commanding you to suffer meaninglessly always went unchallenged.

Who are you among people?

Here, in the moment… where are you?

If you can bear one moment of pain and live through it, you can endure the next, a reassuring thought. The assumption, however, is that pain will eventually subside. You want pain to carve its place in your psyche. If the moment is painful enough, it lasts. Pain is how you discern reality and what does not slowly kill you is of no value.

A prophet proselytizing oblivion.

A numbness interrupted by random surges of neurological activity.

A consciousness condemned to solitary confinement.


The Capricious Cog

Five minutes of neurosis.

Five minutes of losing yourself.

Five minutes of damnation.

The terrifying truth is that at any given moment, you’re one thought away from a nervous breakdown. If you relax your grip for one second, he slips in and gnaws at your consciousness. He amplifies your fears and reduces your choices to a hopeless surrender. He’s always bigger, stronger, engulfing you in his grey world where your shadow resides and forcing you to languidly swirl for an eternity inside your head.

“You are by yourself among people.”

“You are never enough.”

“Life will devour your soul.”

A hand on your shoulder jolts you back to the present moment. He’s gone for now; you are still here.

Hymn of the Machine

Are you here in the moment? How was lunch? Are you alive? Your digital footprint is transmitted into space. Your tweets and Instagram posts flash before your eyes as you die; there is probably an Instagram slideshow for it. How many likes would you get when they remember you? How many notifications will be thrown into the pyre?

One more hit. Online, online, online. Online in the eternal moment. A lingering presence, embalmed by data. What is your sign? Available. Busy. Don’t exceed the limits of words and ideas. Surveillance begets freedom. The timeline is a reflection of what the algorithms deem significant to you. The system is an extension of your cognitive faculties: a hyperactive self-awareness.

The medium is the message.


What is it about going back? What is the allure of returning? Something out of nothing… for eternity.

Home, the place whence your memories originate, before the beginning.

Something out of nothing. Life gives rise to life. A sentient being suffers then dies. The womb incubates evil.

Can you please stop? I want to find myself. I want this ephemeral life to mean something. Can you please let me go back to make it right? Are our wails wasted in this isolated system?

A splatter on the canvas of creation observes itself and wonders, “what am I?”


Love Synapses

“You don’t love me the same way I love you, and that’s the end of us.”

“How dare you not notice all the times I approached you inside my head? how dare you not react to my inaction?”

“Let’s be honest but not too honest. Allow me to gaze at my reflection in your eyes and I will see the real you.”

“Why won’t you stop being more than what I want you to be?”


A creeping headache holds you in its grip. The aura of hyperactivity and inhibition lulls you into a false sense of security. The body mutinies against consciousness. Pain descends, permeating inside your skull. The type of pain that forces you to squeeze your eyes shut and endure a surge of neurological anguish because it feels better when you finally open them; now you have perspective. The grip tightens.

What does the Buddha say about biting the flesh off someone’s face and feasting on their agony?


The GIF is taken from this source