Nonexistence

                                                          Hope is the first to die   when you give up  after a few attempts. It's annoying when you get excited about something, like a dream about to come true , or you're just starting out in the first stages, only to not succeed the first time. Then, your hope and your lifelong plans are shattered all at once, and every time an objection to your intentions (whether good or bad) appears, you lose your will and give up again. Some heavy work (or what seems heavy) comes along, and you end up trembling with laziness or exhaustion just imagining all the work it will entail, only much more so, or someone gives you too many details for something new, and you can't even absorb it all because you can't appreciate failure . Of course, you should allow yourself to feel this hatred and a certain ...

That Chaos—Nature, God and gods, Demons, and perfection and imperfection. The death that gave life to existence. Inexistence , in terms of reality, is the culmination of being the silence of this chaos. Simply enjoying your own world, understanding your own time and moments of connecting to worlds outside yours and how you can't control these worlds (nor be the artists of these worlds), being something that always gets in the way of everyone (but always defending your own innocence and dignity), and being something that can be aware of its own weaknesses and simply allow everyone to exist and talk to you about their problems and their lives (remembering that you shouldn't solve certain problems for others, but rather help), and simply speaking to them without expecting something "real" to be lived. Life is the realism of a masterpiece, artistically speaking, not philosophically, where even the most stupid or simple detail transforms an entire space into something incr...

  I don't have any religion, but I still enjoy listening to the stories and even reflecting on them sometimes. In fact, one of the things I always think about when it comes to God is this idea of making everyone special, with unseen or unpredictable destinies. If you think about this sometimes or often call on God, I'd love to discuss it with you.If for God we are unique and each of us has a different destiny, what does God gain from this? What does this "mission" add to the existence of this "being"? Comment below on the blog! The " soul ," the essence of a being, is a copy of another being; it's not perfect. A sculpture of blood is meant to be a unique creation, definitely divine, because when it comes to God, it makes sense to me that we are pieces of him, each personality or form of him, making "him" also imperfect and his existence. A paradox that can still expand to something beyond it. The unknown is not impossible to know, ...

      Robert Sapolsky (neuroscientist, writer, and professor of biological sciences, neurology, and neurosurgery at Stanford University in the USA) -"We are the sum of what we cannot control." You are the ghost resulting from the choices and nature of your ancestors. There is no free will , as Sapolsky himself says. No one is "purely" real, and for me, free will is never related to being "alive"; it's more about "rebellious" freedom and nature itself, because that's the basis of your art. Of the joys you acquire and create in life, but there, it's still not entirely your "individuality." It's not entirely nature that defines you (only by itself, in this case. Many other scientists who criticize Sapolsky's ideas say that free will is something far beyond metaphysics , etc. And not just the biological part) because still, there is the part where you create " consciousness " and self-knowledge from what you...

   The world is strange, but even that definition doesn't exist. This is the paradox of life . Yet many insist that there is something "strictly" specific, not something logically specific. Typically, these people who live in cycles of "behaving" in this reality end up passing this madness on to others born from this " small universe ." It's worth considering that all those who preach insignificant worlds usually can't stand their own world, and so they think this is being "strong" and realistic. Strong in humiliating yourself and being humiliated by the whole world. It's one thing to be religious or to believe completely in some "law" or something like that and still know that you shouldn't follow ideas that undermine someone else's dignity or your own. It's another to agree with absolutely everything, to be afraid, or simply to no longer belong in your own body, and your dignity or someone else's hono...

     Life and death are the same, in some way. The same in that they are ephemeral and not "sides" or eccentrically "real" things. Neither of them needs to think about having a body (whether a body "described" as ugly or beautiful) or any kind of choice that involves "one side" all the time. They don't need to be anything, and this applies to your life, which is always questioning you about who you are, whether you're worthy, whether you're a monster or something perfect or great, and that's so annoying that it even loses the point of complaining about it sometimes; it just becomes horrible. The world is somewhere between horrible things and "extremely" beautiful things, and that's it. Life becomes stupid. It doesn't escape your suffering or the suffering of the world in general. There are appropriate times to deal with issues beyond your control. Facing reality without defenses is like shouting at a wall, witho...

      Love doesn't have to be something conscious all the time or even responded to. The lonely person still loves without existing for what they love and for their destiny, even if it isn't as expected. Those tired of their own unique presence will always seek love but will never have a sense of the innocence of this feeling.   Your focus should not be loneliness, but rather your intuition to love so as to never leave your fragility in mind. But love is an extremely fragile and volatile thing that even the most narcissistic can be destroyed and lose their honor through the humiliation of not being loved by the world or by anything else. If, at that moment, your self-love wasn't enough to defend yourself against such humiliation and wanting to "cure" this loneliness quickly, you wouldn't be able to understand that you lost your world to a soul (or souls) who didn't even make an effort for you, not even in malice. Love can turn against you, a fragile thi...

  Reality is neither certain nor mathematically correct. Human reality has been shaped by the expectation of perfection and failure , of insignificance . But even those with the greatest status and the greatest physical and athletic achievements cannot achieve self-satisfaction . Life's sphinx makes them question whether they are truly beautiful and worthy enough to exist in this vast world. Yet, they have yet to find meaning in their lives. Life sometimes will lose sense, this is normal, but perfection is an ungrateful muse that turns you into a maniac with your own mistakes and failures, a being who will never find the ecstasy of perfection, and therefore, the meaning of perfection . Humans are a bizarre beauty , as is the mystery of life . But not designed to perfection, especially for creatures that already fail with perfection in the beginning, thinking that perfection is the only sense to our existence.

            Maturity is what makes you laugh at your failures , savor them with a certain nostalgia, and have a sense of your progress in life or in anything from the simplest and silliest to the most complex, and it also makes you realize that your limits do not define you. Innocence is only lost when you allow, too abruptly and as a reflex of affliction, your pain to command your heart and mind, setting you on a path of needing to feel superior or a priority, avenged, or not allowing others to laugh at your failures, fears, or anything else. Maturity teaches you to separate traumatic moments from tedious or simple ones and teaches you that even anger is an instrument of inspiration and strength, but only when the enemy or problem is truly something that needs to be addressed.   And, contrary to what people think, maturity doesn't bring authority by itself; it depends even more on how you react to the world around you, your patience with others' mis...

It's pretty hard to think about reality without losing the line, without missing the point, or reaching a point that still lacks a definitive answer. Reality is an art, a mystery you carry, and then you grace it with what you "reach" and not with what you don't understand or can't even "know." Otherwise, you'll end up in some level of insignificance or simply lost, left with a certain fear you can't even explain. Life is an ephemeral and infinite sphinx . A cannibalistic art that devours its own flesh to create its own universe, and here is a possible demonstration that you are still part of this great art and not a butler of some god or condemned to this screwed-up yet bizarrely beautiful and mysterious reality. This sphinx will sometimes ask you if you are real or if life is the only "right" thing, while you are the poison that runs through your blood. Everyone firmly believes there is reality, but what is reality for an existence i...

      "Be art, be dead" -  It's common to say that life is cruel, that life is this or that. But then, if you stop and think about it, even what's called "help," like religion (any religion) or some philosophies like Sartre's existentialism , which places the weight of total freedom on your shoulders, also screws you over a bit. They all have a good point, but they always leave you in a gigantic insignificance while only the rest is beautiful. My parasites, my paintings, help you think lightly about your own life and help you separate the grandeur of the universe from your innocent existence. Being dead to the life that forces you to be pathetic, being an art unto yourself. A masterpiece that is also part of the universe. A small, walking universe.    This is the movement of my art: being dead to the world you don't belong to and don't control. Being the masterpiece and the artist who transforms the joy of living by being aware of, and not ashame...