Nonexistence

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You shall not carry the madness of the universes you have borned from

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...

The ephemeral beauty of death

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...

The love that loves even inexisted

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...

The imperfect mathematics of human anatomy

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 not losing innocence

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...

Reality - Is a real thing?

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 - Dead to the insignificance

"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...