Television is worse for your brain than porn

TV is worse than porn because noise and ? 

And at heist you know what you're getting (:

If you're unaware of why then the porn will be worse

It's not a defense.

It's more me realizing that things fester.

The TV might amplify the way you are but if it only amplifies the way you were made then you are still being seen as an amplified yourself and not all that would've been if you had choice to be absolutely whatever.

Not because or porn, or working out or living a good life or a bible.

If you could spawn into existence out of darkness or light as the person you wanted to be, you would possibly–scratch\\\

YOU would've probably selected your attributes to how you wanted to be.

Probably not even think of these things unless you had to figure something out or wanted to know something or for whatever reason you open your wound or talk to your shadow, or treat yourself nicely or worship the body or disrespect yourself or however your perspective would be, becaues then you'd just have that perspective. I would be in you to feel "this isn't bad" or "this isn't good" (for me) in particular.

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The porn will say I am a bad person and because of it no one wants to be around me.

The TV will say I am bad because I watch porn.

The porn will say it loves me because the TV does not.

The TV will say it loves me because it didn't lie to me.

By this point I've already forgotten but I'm pretty sure the porn is going to convince me that it doesn't matter because I know it does because this isn't about the porn to me.

This isn't about how I've had my heart broken and this isn't about how I wish there was a person or other persons to help me hold the pieces while I keep breaking it and putting it together everyday... at a word, I realized something and to stop writing there best off been.

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I don't want to watch myself

I don't want to watch others

This definitely has to do with my last post about saying you're not allowed to say you want to kill yourself.

As if I feel I'm not allowed to talk about the unfortunacy of existing just to have something unfair to happen to you and building a whole foundation off being hurt when really, there was no option if you had no guidance or mind of your own. How does someone gain better habits if trained not at all but then forced to go in circles to where the hope is at the bottom they are eaten by snakes.

If someone could say why they are addicted to; whatever they are addicted too, they could then figure themselves on how to solve themselves.

It's hard to say that though.

It's hard to say in detail, because in detail is how we can truly let go [then when we let go we want an apology we don't get and want even god to bend to our will because of how we felt.] that however, is another chapter.

I almost–

I tried to–

I wanted to–

Whatever it is–it's cool to think... but now I'm mixing the idea.

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Porn, I can expect what they seek to make me or insult me with, hold over my head.

TV, it's like a random variable to me.

Real life, when you are just walking around and hear people talk or don't want anyone to talk.

Time being young and not knowing the world was talking about you or kept itself quiet because the now perception is that they were satisfied with having you be timid and not speak.

Now you, me; as I am talking to myself, not you, not the spirit of whatever or nothingness in space that makes up a human or energy–but, me.

I just want to be angry now and I don't know how to do it properly.

There is no where to run when porn has filled the eyes and TV has dulled you out to wanting to watch something else,

"I don't want to be here but here I am".

The color, the contrast; the theories and the worst things you can think of.

The best thing you can want to hold onto?

This would never happen.

I hope this wouldn't happen.

This is probably happening right now somewhere or somehow.

Did–did you understand?

I get worried, I don't sometimes because I also feel broken.

Broken in a way that I don't want anything and because of that I want something but there is nothing to reach for except the idea of the best thing ever of whatever I could make up in my head.

I still had something else I wanted to say

I am still angry and would rather it all die than to live–but I wanted to live and make up for everything that I feel was done to me, then maybe I could die–or live? If it were balanced out I could probably make a decision better. This isn't really about living or dying.

I still had something else to say

I keep forgetting.

I don't want to be happy anymore but I do and I don't want to be happy like a human, or a god and God when I think about it him or her or Lord or Lordress, I do not imagine them being happy.

I do sometimes!

I don't like to think others are suffering while I have a good time but maybe that is supposed to be guilt so that I can have a better time.

I don't want to be happy though, because I've forgotten how too.

It's like I learn how to be for a moment and then it's gone again.

Because I don't like people.

Because I don't like my story.

Because of thinking I write beautifully

or because I keep writing because instead of trying to express the thing I'm trying to express because I also want someone to see what I am expressing.

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I don't like shaking hand's with people.

I would rather say my hands are dirty.

I'd rather have my hand's filthy than

to touch people I feel I can't trust.

That makes me feel I am doing myself dirty.

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I would like to not be judged now!

For whatever is or is not within the facets of easy to do when online if there is no understanding in one that is no one knows–I would like to not be judged for my mistakes for if without knowing what I knew now, I would not be free nor did anyone tell me about it, I had to figure out myself.

Do or do not, I would hope even change to be but be that which makes me realize it was not my fault can stop and because I can without the idea even more-so but the view of the horizon would I be able to move.

Stuck in the woods or in a city, seeing the same things everyday to me isn't pretty.

It is sometimes!

Sometimes.

Sometimes...

Basically I would like to move along but still have the carelessness balance of conscious maxed to conscious most minimum in extance to not must do but can do if feeling off my own balance or figuring something about future past or present so that sanity may sane to that in parameters of binary code lesser to web light there are contents that have assisted in healing and brokeness.

How hard to I have to imagine to imagine something I'm not supposed to imagine that doesn't exist on the internet that if on the internet would be flagged as something that only an evil person would do even if it were just to keep me away from doing evil to a person because of what was done to me.

If an angel dies suffering the things it suffers–it become a monster?

It skips over from becoming something better or something like a demon and it just becomes a monster?

If an angel is about to help or die is it helping or is it dying when it takes care of itself when going to sleep?

If they're allowed to eat humans or kill babies, why can't I?

I don't even want to do that–it just makes me so made they do that or have done it that I want to do it just because I then missed out on their good time having a bad time so I want to have a worse time doing a thing I don't want to do even if I'm not thinking about doing that.

Is home eating the carcass of something that dies in the desert?

I am angry about something that I believe could've been prevented

and now i get a chance at a good life.

Why?

Something saw purpose in me so I need to align to everything,

I want to runaway from everyone and still I want to help and I don't.

At all.

How can I be apart from everything and everyone, every energy and again I say–whatever.

That's all i know to say at times because that's all it is.

I'm not my own thing...

It's like were all just things and it's gross.

I like to believe all my friends are not here.

I like to believe my real friends and family are somewhere else,

not on this world.

I like to believe I have no reflection.

I hate seeing what I believe happening.

I see it happening a lot.

If i didn't see it happening I would be sad.

When I see it happening when I say something like that,

I get angry.

When I get angry I want to... I want to be happy but then I'm too angry and sad and hungry and bored because of the same things I just wrote about that I am failing to explain because I am succeeding at explaining them to myself.

I didn't answer the question because I could.

I just wanted to talk about how before television, before porn, before whatever versus whatever–there was me.

And me wanted to be happy, me didn't know how but that is what me wanted.

Now me is sad because of something me couldn't prevent because i was me and me was... idk.

That's all I'm saying.

It's unfair.

carcass.

To the thing I was going to say –

Thank you, sorry I forgot how to say it.

it's little things like that.