language will always fail to describe what it feels like to be human.
is a poorly comprehended set of corollaries.
Because the future is some arbitrary illusion as manifest, if and only if the preceding actions lead to that specific manifestation.
The past is some painted picture, that can’t be washed away or changed, and each painting’s image is distorted according to the perspective of the painter.
So all we have is now, and that’s the only true time period. Now. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a single moment? How do I know I’ve painted the past correctly? How do I know if now is leading to the correct manifestation? How does anyone make it in life without losing their mind?
Only when the heart stops, do we stop dying and get to rest.