˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖lilyworld SECRET diary ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

welcome to my little diary... just a place for all my silly ramblings...

12/04/25
i smell like seawater, and there's a faint taste of chocolate mice lingering in my mouth. i love chocolate mice. thinking about my capacity for violence; what i could do when pushed far enough, or if i'd even need to be pushed very far at all. at the risk of sounding edgy, or tryhard, i am not sure it would take much at all for me to do something terrible. last monday, i picked up a pencil, looked for a sharpener to make it into a sharp enough point, but couldn't find one. i was disappointed, because i'd envisioned myself stabbing it into the flesh of my hand- i have a scar from this- feeling the blood drip down through my fingers. if someone annoyed me that badly, i might have stuck the pencil in their face; i am glad i didn't. i don't think i want to hurt anyone, not really. but i thought about stabbing someone in my life but i cannot remember who. a name is coming to mind, though i don't think it was them. violence sometimes scares me, and i can't bear to think about it, but then sometimes i am utterly enthralled by it. what changes? a few days ago, i watched gore for the first time in a few years- i think i cried a little, but i cannot remember now. how could i be so nonchalent about it whilst i was twelve? such a natural, historic instinct becomes twisted and warped, into something sinsister and evil. i wish i could meet every one of my ancestors.

every time i pick up my phone the time is an angel number, or the time is the same but reversed. 12:21. every number means something to me. everything does. i looked at the clouds and wept for god. on thursday night, i called with gustav for the first time in *ages*. sometimes i'd sit there for a while, not saying anything; content in silence. i wasn't sad (maybe a little melancholy, for a while), just didn't have anything to say. anyway. he told me that i had a really philosphical character- he said he never thinks about the things i do. he told me he lived for god, i felt rather crestfallen - i want to live for god too. i want people to be able to see that. i'm philosphical in the sense that i consider everything in it's relation to god, to the spiritual, to the divine. but. it doesn't matter if other people see that, not at all, actually- all that matters is if *god* can see it.

"Ye shall make you no idols nor graven image, neither rear you up a standing image, neither shall ye set up any image of stone in your land, to bow down unto it: for I am the LORD your God." Leviticus 26:1 KJV

i miss everyone, in some way or another. i carry them around with me, inside my heart, or my lungs- you are the air that i breathe. even the people who've caused me to feel as if i had died and was now in hell, i miss them sometimes. the way they turned me on, or how they'd make me laugh, or the conversations i would have with them. i should ask everyone who enters my life, however briefly, to give me a souvenir of them- a lock of hair, a baby tooth, a letter, anything- so i can hold onto them, in some way, once they've gone. i'll give everyone a souvenir, if they so wish. i'll write you a hundred letters and cut off my hair and pull out my teeth for you. i will grieve you, even if we simply knew each other's name and nothing else. when everything with ███ happened, and we no longer talked, i remember i was sick with grief for the longest time; i couldn't sleep anymore, i could barely eat, there was an aching in my body so deep i couldn't identify where it was coming from- i lay on the floor so often then. i couldn't really speak- i just lay there, face on the carpet, making strange, indescripable noises that attempted to convey the despair i was feeling. eventually it got easier. but i'll never forget anyone.

LILYWORLD- barely exists, just a name i gave for my internet presence, but somehow i feel connected to it on a deep spirtual level; it feels like a tangible philosphy, even if just smething very loosely coded, a couple of .html files & something made out of a need to be seen, is all that it is. things will transform into something else; whilst remaining the same, everything is perpetually changing, and so is LILYWORLD.

13/04/25
reading anti-oedipus by delueze. i don't admire many people- one should only admire god- but he is a truly phenomenal (had to look up the spelling) philosopher and writer. i've read the works of many, and taken as much as i could from them, but i'd say delueze is one of few who i've read and felt a sort of resonation with. i'm not sure why. but then again i never search for a philosophy, because i find that to an extremely depressing experience; i don't know how to give advice on how to go abut living life, but the answers may not be in neitschze, or jung, or anyone. i think if you just trust, if you remain hopeful to the point of retardation, you'll find something that'll make sense, something that'll explain everything- the rest shall follow. there's a part of the preface in anti-oedipus that feels like what i'm trying to say here, in some way or another;

It would be a mistake to read Anti-Oedipus as the new theoretical reference (you know, that much-heralded theory that finally encompasses everything, that finally totalizes and reassures, the one we are told we "need so badly" in our age of dispersion and specialization where "hope" is lacking). One must not look for a "philosophy" amid the extraordinary profusion of new notions and surprise concepts: Anti-Oedipus is not a flashy Hegel.

or am i simply an imbecile? perhaps! but it's silly to care.