For anyone who has been reading my posts since I joined, would know that I, like many other people on this site, cut myself in desperate times. However, I haven’t in a couple months even when I wanted to. I realised that maybe it isn’t the best/only way to deal with problems and I hope other people can stop too. But the end of one addiction is the beginning of another one and unfortunately for my health, I’ve started smoking about 2 months ago and before that, did it probably once a week for a few months. Not a lot but still I’m doing it. It’s my new way of relieving myself. Sometimes I do worry that there is the chance that I’d get sick but it is unlikely since the most Ive smoked is like 4 in a day. I do not at all suggest this to anyone, but just felt the need to share my change in bad habits, my new relief.
Once, I was desperate to get along well with my friends. I paid whenever I went out to eat with them, gave them gifts so they wouldn’t leave me all by myself.
It so happened that I had dated one of my friends. Dating him wasn’t as happy as I thought. That experience still haunts me. The touch, the kiss.. all is a nightmare. Even now, as I trace my scars, I think of him – he destroyed me mentally. Yes, the relationship was toxic.
One might wonder, “Why didn’t you break up with him? Don’t act like a baby.” Well, if you and your boyfriend happens to belong in a group of your only friends at school – and you spend all of your days at school -, you might be hesitant to end your relationship. Breaking up might bring end of many friendships.
Then, I came to realize that I shouldn’t be afraid. I’m basically an adult, I should act like one. Whether I’m included within my friends’ group shouldn’t determine how happy I am.
So, here I am now. I don’t know what lies my ex-boyfriend concocted to make my previous friends be so rude to me, though I never ever had a row with any of them.
But, now I know, it’s really alright to be lonely. I may have only a couple of friends with whom I hang out, and that’s enough.
I’m an outsider, I chose it, and it’s really nothing. The perfect way to cope with your relationship problems is -at least for me- to leave all pretense of trying to be friendly with everybody.
Last night, I had my 18th birthday. I invited 13 people. And only 4 showed up. We made so much food. The evidence of people not coming is still here. People just told me they couldn’t come last minute. I felt shitter as the night went on.
I had a 3 tier cake. A fire pit to roast marshmallows. Cocktails. Multiple games. In the end it didn’t matter what was at the party people still didn’t show.
It was half an hour until two of my friends showed. They were the first guests. I thought they were the only ones coming until another two showed up. I felt so relieved.
Two others who were supposed to come said they couldn’t come because: they forgot, and my other friend said her dog was sick and might be put down.
I don’t know if I should believe them, but when they told me, I felt sick. I was so embarassed and upset and mad. My four friends who actually came felt sorry for me and tried to make me feel better by telling how this party was so much fun.
Nevertheless, I cried myself to sleep last night, and I’m still crying. I have never felt so humiliated in front of everyone. Now they know how much of a loser I am.
I always struggled with some sort of addiction ever since I was little. When I was little it was huffing sharpe markers. Im pretty sure every kid did that hah. Then when i was a pre-teen it was self harming. The usual cutting, scratching at myself until i bled, pinching, biting, etc. I was addicted to tormenting myself for 7 years. Of course, that stopped. But now as a fresh adult, i find myself leaning to a new addiction. Smoking. I do vape and i find it as a casual hobby rather than an addiction tbh. But the thing about cigs is that it feels like a warm and tight hug in my chest. I find comfort with each puff i take and I know it is harmful. I just say fuck it. I dont care about my health anymore. I know if i continue i will hurt myself from the inside out. But fuck it. i say that but at the same time i do care. I dont even know. Im just confused and conflicted.
Have you guys struggled with addiction? Any tips on how to control it?
i was twelve.
he reached between my legs and touched what was not his.
the guilt, the shame, the sadness… they practically ate me alive.
i was fourteen.
he pulled off my shirt and kissed me where i did not want to be kissed. i wanted those bruises gone. their weeklong stay was too long.
i was told that a boy will touch you like that when he likes you.
i tell myself a boy will touch my heart if he likes it so truly.
the old cat.
the younger cat.
the solar eclipse.
the falling leaves.
her best friend.
the group chat.
the dancing bird video.
the cute cat video.
the chicken farm.
the funny dreams.
” In music the passions enjoy themselves. ” – Friedrich Nietzsche
Nikos Skalkottas (1904-1949) was one of the greatest composers of the 2oth century classical music – I personally place him next to Kurt Weill and Igor Stravinsky. It’s a shame that nowadays most people (especially here in Greece) don’t know his work. Here’s the wikipedia page about him:
I should write what are the names of the compositions and the songs in this video and where the photos in it are taken.
36 Greek Dances
00:00 – 01:23 Epirotikos – photos from the region of Epirus in Greece.
01:24 – 03:22 Kleftikos – photos of various Greek mountains.
03:22 – 05:16 Tsamikos (An Eagle) – photos of various Greek mountains again, but this time during the winter, so they’re all full of snow.
05:16 – 06:38 Cretikos – photos from the island of Crete. At 06:19 we see Castello a Mare (castle of the sea) or Castel di Candia (castle of Candia), which was build by the Venetians (Crete was under Venetian/Italian rule for many centuries).
06:38 – 08:22 Syrtos Dance – photos from the castle of Mistras, situated at mt. Taygetos in the Peloponnese (it’s near Sparta). This castle was build by the Franks (during the crusades, Peloponnese was under Frankish rule) and later the Byzantines (or, to be more precise, Eastern Romans) conquered it, that’s why we see a lot of churches there. The statue that we see at the end of the song is of the last Byzantine emperor, Constantine IX Palaeologus.
08:22 – 10:12 Island Dance – photos of various islands in Greece. The first one is from the island of Santorini.
10:12 – 12:03 Mazochtos Dance – photos of various ancient sites. More explicitly:
10:16 – reenactment of the ancient Olympic games ceremony at ancient Olympia.
10:28 – photo of the Knossos palace on the island of Crete.
10:40 – I have no idea which temple is this, probably the Aphaea (or Aphaia) temple on the island of Aegina.
10:51 – Again, no idea. Probably the temple of Apollo in Corinth (it’s impossible for me to know all the archaeological sites in Greece, there are too many of them).
11:03 – Temple of the Olympian Zeus in Athens.
11:14 – Temple of Poseidon at cape Sounion (it’s near Athens).
11:25 – Sanctuary of Athena in Delphi.
11:37 – Temple of Apollo on the island of Delos.
11:48 – The Lion Gate at Mycenae in Peloponnese.
12:01 – same as the photo at 10:16.
12:03 – 15:26 The Trawler – photos of the sea.
The Maiden and Death
15:26 – 18:25 Andantino (Tempo di Valse) – photos of statues/sculptures/graves from the First Cemetery of Athens.
Piano Concerto No. 1
18:26 – 19:50 – photos of various buildings in Athens.
Bolero for Cello and Piano
19:51 – 21:57 – photos from Germany (whoever made this video put them in, because Skalkottas studied music in Germany).
The Return of Ulysses (Overture)
21:58 – 24:01 – photos of refugees and immigrants, not only in Greece, but in various places of Europe.
Double Bass Concerto
24:01 – 26:00 Allegro Vivo e Molto Ritmato – photos of various ancient Greek statues.
26:00 – 27:25 – photos taken during the Nazi occupation of Greece (1941-1944). At 26:46 and 27:04 we see the ”saltadoroi” (jumpers): these were small kids who jumped on German trucks and were stealing food to eat. At 27:13 we see Greek partisans. The last photo was taken in Athens on the day the Germans left the city.
This poem is based on the ancient Greek epic poem Odyssey, which is attributed to the legendary author Homer. Quick summary of the Odyssey: there was a war between the ancient Greeks and the Trojans (Troy was – and still is – located at nowadays North-western Turkey), the Greeks laid siege on the city of Troy for 10 years and they destroyed it (there’s another ancient epic poem, Aeneid by the Roman author Virgil, that picks up the story after the destruction of Troy, but let’s stick to Homer’s Odyssey for now). After that, one of the Greek kings named Odysseus (in Latin: Ulysses) set out for Ithaka, his birthplace and kingdom. On his journey home (which lasted, according to the poem, 10 years) he had many adventures and misadventures.
And, for the film buffs, a good adaptation of the Odyssey is this one:
Anyway, I posted this poem because we can see it as a representation of life itself. And I can’t decide if it’s optimistic or pessimistic…
At first glance, it seems very optimistic: keep trying and fighting to reach your goals, whatever they are. Its meaning is similar to the phrase ”the chase is better than the catch”. But the final lyrics of the poem make me think of it as pessimistic and a little bit ironic:
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
These lyrics are implying that it was all for nothing, that every effort was fruitless and meaningless. And that’s why I can’t decide… I might say that the interpretation of Cavafy’s poem depends on someone’s views on life…
The title makes the theme pretty clear: I have buttloads of Social Anxiety, and it is a living Hell dealing with, ignoring, or confronting it on a daily, and sometimes, hourly basis. I have battled against it my whole memorable life, and I’ve had it up to here- *raises hand to tippy top of head* -with all the bullshit.
I had an amazing day today/yesterday, but all I can think about, all the thoughts I can conjure and obsess over are, “what if I fucked it up? What if the people I talked to and had coffee with in that wonderful, cozy cafe think I am too much, or even worse, can never bring themselves to understand who I am?”. It keeps running through my head, over and over and over again: “You messed it up man; you done fucked up. She won’t really want to be friends with you, let alone like who you are for you. You might as well become reclusive and quit before she leaves you like the rest do.” I always go too fast; come on too hard for people, and it blows up in my face. I’ve never gotten along with shallow people; and, though I admit I have hated them off and on, in the end, them and I just don’t mix well- and that leaves me with a very “shallow” pool of people to choose from: the damaged folk, who’re unable to give back in a friendship; the “I’m just like you, but live way the fuck far away” folk, who, for clear reasons, cannot be in the picture; and, lastly, and definitely least, the end. That’s it; there aren’t any more people.
The worst part is that I cannot make it alone: I really, really want to be able to do that, and I am VERY introverted- though pretend to be an Extrovert to please other people-, but I desperately wish for and desire a few close, understanding, and intimate friends; and, in the long run, a gf/wife. But, as I have for so long, I must wait. I am okay with that, I just wish today was the day; I just wish that this hour was the hour. But, that isn’t how the world or God works.
Thanks for getting this far- *waves to nobody- no one read this*. I hope your lives are at least a bit better than mine.
Appreciate those in your life who love you, and whom you love.
To die to sleep… to sleep… perchance to dream.
(Hamlet, act iii, scene iv)
You are the dream of a God; when you awake
will you return to the womb where you were born?
Will you then be what you were before?
Will your death be a new birth?
Is this dream absent during wakefulness?
Luckily here the mystery assists us;
as a remedy of our sad life
our fate remains an inviolable secret.
Let your future remain hidden under the fog
and walk calmly as you take your last step;
the less light there is, the more certain you can be.
Is our sunset the dawn of another world?
Dream on, my soul, in your obscure path:
” To die to sleep… to sleep… perchance to dream.”
The Immortality of the Crab (Inmortalidad del Cangrejo)*
The deepest problem:
of the immortality of the crab,
is that a soul it has,
a little soul in fact…
That if the crab dies
entirely in its totality
with it we all die
for all of eternity
* The title of the poem is based on the Spanish phrase pensar en la inmortalidad del gangrejo (thinking about the immortality of the crab), which means that someone is daydreaming, is lost in thought, is pondering. There’s a similar phrase in Portuguese: pensar na morte da bezerra.
To Destiny (Al Destino)
When I struggle, calmness overwhelms me
hiding your secrets from me, Destiny;
don’t let me falter in my path, because
without questioning I obey you blindly.
Don’t give me time to complain or beg;
spur me on without stopping,
and, like a sleepless pilgrim, let me
carry with me the fire from my hearth.
I want to win my peace through war;
I want to conquer the impossible dream;
don’t let me rest from trying to shed light
on the enigma within your heart,
and when I return to the bosom of the earth
let me deserve an ever-lasting peace.
Miguel De Unamuno is probably the most important Spanish philosopher, novelist and poet of the 20th century. His most famous works are: The Tragic Sense of Life (1912), Poesias (Poems – 1907), Our Lord Don Quixote (1914), Saint Emmanuel the Good, Martyr (1930), Aunt Tula (1921), Cancionero (Songbook – 1953, published after his death). He was born in Bilbao (1864) and died in Salamanca (1936).
If you’ve ever seen any of my previous posts on my chronic mental and emotional afflictions, then you must know this: that I am in pain; and, for most people- if not all- pain is something people hate. They most often turn to addiction or something essentially the same to hide or suppress their issue, whatever it may be.
I myself have had addiction issues before, and still struggle with an addiction to Pornography. That, and my depression and all around loneliness will be the topics I so boringly lay out before you all in this post today.
Since a very young age, I have been obsessed with finding a girl to love. I saw girls and women; bodies and minds, but did not know what they meant, or even what they were. Then, as I found porn, I discovered how beautiful they were; albeit from the most perverse and rotten possible method, I had indeed found beauty and loveliness incarnate.
For years and years; for whole seasons of my life, I learned the ways of people: how to smile and interpret faces; how to laugh for real, and a polite, tidy guffaw. But in the midst of all of these things, not once had I found love; nor, to an ever growing and ever expanding sense of dread and, indeed, sadness within me, had I found a companion.
In the Garden of Eden, where Adam, the first Man, Made by God Himself lived, he named the beasts and walked the earth; ate the fruit given to him, and breathed the air in content, forgoing one thing what he lacked: a companion. God saw that it was not right for Adam to be alone, and so, from Adam he made Eve; from Man, Woman; from first, second. To this effect, he gave Adam what he so desperately needed to live, and have joy in living.
I am worse than Adam: I am stuck with his Sin, and yet am alone; for in the depths of my heart lies only respect and love and artistic interest in girls and women, but I am restricted and by my own hand only reduced to viewing the abuse of beauty and the whoring of “love”, instead of finding its true form. I hate Porn. I HATE IT. It is total shit and has no place in the world.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I love the idea of sex- yep, I’m an adult virgin/the whole marriage thing in my other post was to hide my shame of never having had a family-, and I appreciate wholly nude art and the understanding of sexuality and the likeness, but Porn is none of those things: it is evil, it is vile; its tongue holds the interest and intent of lust alone, not love or caring or compromise. Its heart is of rape and violence; and beyond its outer coat of rightful desire, there lies alone, the craving of a madman and the marked depression of the lonely who roam the night.
I don’t even want someone to have sex with- not yet. All I want; all I have been dreaming of, is a girl to hold, and hold me back; a soft, warm being to be beside me; to speak to me, and kiss my nose. I want someone to watch movies with at the 11:00 pm showing, when usually I am all alone, sitting all cold and lonesome in the top section. I want another hand to squeeze and make myself calm by. I know what I want can never happen, and I am fully aware of how stupid it is for me to look after this foolish concept; I just wish it could be. A thousand stars to all of the wonderful, intelligent, curious women I know, who’ll never love me, let alone understand or have an interest in me.
I am the kind of man who is always in the friendzone; and, mostly, that is what I want. Women are my friend, and neither of us ever try anything. But, as time goes on, I find myself wishing there would come one who’d prove me a man.
So a lot has been going on in my life lately. I’ve dont what I always do to pick myself back up again but it hasent been working. I try sleeping away the pain. I try singing away the pain. I try painting away the pain. I try talking away the pain. Why now when I feel like I need to be happy more than ever can I not find any of it?! It sucks ighjjj
It’s taking a lot for me to write this. I’ve had so conjure up the will or energy to even post here again. I feel so hopeless right now. I just want to die already!
God it’s so hard. To think about the shit storm of pain I’ll leave behind. I hate myself for feeling like this. I think people would be sad for a while but at least they’d be able to move on finally and live their lives without having to worry about me or pay for my therapy or my school or anything . My mom could start to fix her marriage and my sisters could stop having to bother over whether I’m doing okay or not.
Things got pretty bad last year and my immediate family became aware of my mental health or lack there of and ever since then people have been fussing over me and have just forgotten about each other. That’s why I just need to go now… I need to stop being such a burden to people and bringing them down, I need to be dead and gone so that my sisters can feel like they are cared for too and not have me getting all the care and support all the time, I’m always getting in the way. It’s about He only thing I’m good for…
Time to say goodbye now
This month will be the four year anniversary of my father’s suicide. He shot himself in the head in his bedroom and I was the person to find his body. It took me awhile to tell anyone I didn’t know how to call my mom (she left to take my brother away for college that night) and tell her my older sister or my younger brother. It’s inexplicable to say the least. I just don’t know how to handle this time of year. And I hate the holidays so it kind of just rolls into it, my dad birthday is also in September. Any other suicide survivors like me on hear who have now become suicidal themselves?
Please, if you are considering self-harm or are currently self-harming, please quit.
Let me be an example, a warning to you all.
When I first started, it was a tiny little cut on my thigh, made merely to see how it’d feel- and I can’t lie, it was exhilarating to me. I was thirteen at the time and was enduring copious amounts of abuse from my parents, both physical and verbal, which had been occurring since childhood. It was a strain to my psyche and after that first cut, for once in my life, I felt like I was able to deal with all the pain that I was suffering.
If only I knew what I know now, if only I knew how much that first cut would destroy me.
I’d cut when I was sad, cut to punish myself, cut when I hated myself. In any time of distress, I would cut.
From that moment forward, it became everything I relied on; a coping mechanism that was there when I needed it and even when I didn’t. I carried razor blades to school, there were several occasions in which they were confiscated by the campus psychologist, as well as times my backpack needed to be checked.
Of course, with all this commotion, word eventually got out to my parents. On multiple occasions they were contacted but there will always be that one night that has stayed with me the most: my brothers and I all sitting at the dinner table as my mother yelled at me, her exact words being, “Why do you cut yourself? You should just kill yourself instead.” It was a painful experience, but I digress.
Self-mutilation became all that I knew. I had severe depression at the time, and whenever I felt particularly horrendous, I’d bleed out my feelings, spilling all the darkness that resided within me. It was at my lowest point, the winter of eighth grade, in which I was ready for my own death, that I was hospitalized. Sent to an institution to recover, to overcome my harmful thoughts and behaviors- only I didn’t.
Even in a psychiatric institution, I still found a method in which I could cut. When there’s a will, there’s a way, right? I remember after every meal, the staff would count all the plastic cutlery in order to make sure that no one had stolen one as it could later be transformed into a weapon of self-mutilation. Two other girls and I were secretly hurting ourselves and god, the day that one of them exposed herself as well as her friend for cutting, I was terrified, in fear of myself being revealed as well. They shared a room together, and so naturally, they were separated.
I watched as the orderlies stripped the girl’s bed, all the while investigating for any sharp objects that were hidden. I was safe that day as well as every day onward that I spent inside the hospital. The staff never found out about my self-harm.
Sometimes, I wish they did.
As I entered high school, the severity of my cuts only began to magnify, along with the numbers. The deeper it got, the more it worsened. I adopted the mindset (which I still posses) the deeper, the better. Thin, shallow cuts made me weak, made me fucking horrendous. I wasn’t good enough. I was only successful if I made it deep.
I also joined an online community in which users would post photo accounts of their self-harm. Being able to have access to and view the cuts of others pushed me to worsen my cuts as well. The general consensus: the deeper, the better. We are by no means a pro self-harm community, we do not encourage others to cut, but our fragile state of mind has made us vie for the lacerations that are deepest.
I made my account only to watch how my self-inflicted cuts transform over time, to watch as my cuts become deeper and bigger and the space of unmarked skin become more smaller. I didn’t make it for attention. I mean, it’s not as if I cut solely to upload to the internet. It’s never been that way and it never will be. When I feel bad and I cut, I simply photo document the lacerations so that I will have the opportunity to look back on it.
I have over a thousand followers on the account.
I am seventeen in two days. My worst cut was two months ago. I’ve cut on one occasion since then. It was awful, a bit traumatic if you ask me. Of course I’ve gone deep before, looking at my scarred body can prove that for a fact, but it was the first time I sliced into my skin that deep. The entire cut had hit the fat layer; it was a sight to see. I watched in a trance-like state as my blood left my body, in shock at the sheer size of the gaping laceration in my wrist.
It was only until I wiped away the blood that I noticed a dark blue vein inside. I didn’t puncture it, but god, how I wanted to.
So what’s the point of all this writing? As I stated earlier, let me be a warning to you, a precautionary tale. There was a time when I looked at others in shock, telling myself I’d never become like them, telling myself I could control the severity of my self-mutilation.
I was a fool to believe so.
I have destroyed myself in my attempts to cope with my difficulties. Hundreds, and I do mean hundreds, of scars litter my body. Since most of my cuts are deep, I have raised scars. They’re ugly to look at and turn a violent purple when I’m cold. There’s a patch on my wrist that is entirely scar tissue. My scars randomly hurt and ache in the worst way, sometimes for up to half an hour.
I do not take pride in my body or myself because it extremely difficult to find beauty in anything as mutilated and destroyed as I am.
My scars affect my day-to-day life along with my interactions with others. I have received nasty comments, rude stares, been made fun of, and asked invasive questions. It isn’t what I want to live with but now it’s what I’m stuck with.
In addition, finding the strength not to hurt myself is a tough challenge. After becoming so acclimated to resorting to slicing my skin open with anything negative that I encounter, dealing with my issues safe and positively is hard. It’s especially exhausting when I’m stuck in a pit of self-despise for ruining my body, which makes me desire cutting as a form of punishment but is entirely counterintuitive as it was the problem that arose in the first place.
Cutting isn’t anything beautiful and it certainly anything that you want to adopt. It will ruin you.
So please, if you’ve made it this far, consider all that I’ve told you. Consider my experiences and who I am now. Understand that it is not how you want to live.
Please, if you are cutting or considering cutting, please don’t.
In high school, I’d cut everyday. It started when I was 14. I had no where to go, no one to talk to. I’d do it in the school bathrooms before school, just go all out. I’d wait for the bleeding to stop, put some folded up toilet paper over my entire forearm, use hair ties to keep it from moving, pull down my sleeve and go through my day. It’s all I could think about, and when I got home, I’d do it again. This went on for several years. Then, I met someone. Someone who got me to start eating again and stop cutting…for a while..I went without for almost 2 years, but then, the urge became too overwhelming. I’ve relapsed, and honestly, it makes me feel better. Even though it’s for a few moments at a time, at least I fucking feel something.
I’m so tired. Tired of feeling like a burden. Tired of thinking “I bet my parents wish they never had me. I’m the embarrassment of my whole family.” Exhausted from acting like I’m staying strong so my fiancé won’t worry as much. We all die in the end, so what is the point anyway? “to have fun, to love and be loved, to experience the world in and of itself and behold it’s beauty and nature” blah blah blah, it’s bullshit. We live to work in order to keep living which is mostly spent working and sleeping. From the beginning, my life has been shit. I wish I could just end it. I wish I could make all of my bad memories and thoughts go away, but I’m too afraid that there’s nothing was after we die and that there is no peace. I’m tired of being afraid of people, of living, of dying, of the pain I’ve been existing with for years, I’m tired of everything, and most of all, I’m tired of being tired.
i’ve been suicidal since i was 14, maybe 13, but my memory before my first attempt is blurry. i’m almost eighteen now.
i didn’t intend on making it this far, at all. i didn’t intend on living this long – ever getting a job – making it to my senior year of HS.
but, if you’re like me. it’s probably important to remember something my friend said to me.
“you shouldn’t deem yourself a failure whenever you fall down again, you’re still going, you’re still strong. Your illnesses aren’t you. You’re you; and that’s what matters.”
just a little more, okay?
So like, I was wondering about posting as much 1-3 posts, and then maybe taking a big break for a while… I might come around to comment and stuff, but yeah. :p
With that said though, here is my first one with general ideas on things that might help you feel at ease a bit more. 🙂
(Solfeggio (Hz), Lofi, Classical, Hipster/Indie, etc.)
Sometimes I like to listen to really relaxing music, from anything like the solfeggio (hz) stuff which I heard 432 hz is really helpful, to lofi, to even… one 1 hour indie music track even on youtube. XD I think I got it from Life is Strange, but then just decided to go with this one called Wishlight. :p
I also like the Gymnopedies a lot for classical, those are really nice… Japan seems to like that a lot for some reason, and Chopin. :p
It’s in Mother 3 and the Haruhi Suzumiya movie (The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya), and there’s a whole game about Chopin with a rather odd game known as Eternal Sonata. :p
Anyways, moving on though…
2. Anti-Depressant Foods?
I looked up a search engine on foods that supposedly help with your mood and those that hurt it and in general it’s pretty standard stuff for things that are healthy an those that aren’t. :p
One weird thing though is… dark chocolate vs. white chocolate. o.O So if you’re ever in the mood for some sweets, you should try some dark chocolate. :O
3. Afterlife Theory
A long time ago, even though I’m Atheist for various personal reasons, I thought of something weird…
What if the Conservation of Energy/Mass Theory can be applied to souls? 😕 Like, I think it’s something about matter can’t be created or destroyed but only changed… like with water. :p
Maybe we become like that, with the whole ectoplasm thing…? Idk. :p
Just an interesting idea I had…
I hope these ideas help. :p