Bit 16 does creativity have a disease, so low?

"Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." -Albert Einstein

It was as if I had been too far engrossed into thought that my own face became blurred; the creative fibres painted all I saw into unfamiliar smudges across a dreamscape, and I didn't know if I was real, so the epiphany of unbelonging splouted my being and living. The fabrics of life itself, of senses and social connection grew faint, thin and weak - as if I solely was equitously incapable of being present in it; and this caused depersonalisation, and terror and confusion from that, and feeling coldly skeletal - and I wanted to be cold and skeletal if I had a self-worth that wasn't even distinguishable; dream-like, and if all presenses I expereienced where devoured by that paradox of epiphany - it felt panoramic.

I believe, at least with what I've heard of and experienced, that so many creative souls experience such mental intensity of numbness or worry because we are so mesmerised into our thoughts, and that light observance for inspiration can sometimes become poisoned and strangled into over-analysation and noticing too much of the illusions, and with our thoughts also. We feel compelled to think even; to form ideas, and whether we do or not we have this autocracy of self-doubt and evaluation. It's all self-pressure, and it's about observing thoughts; not controlling them, trying to stop them, ignoring them or listening to them, for sometimes we become so dazed that all we do is listen to them as if they're simply a story idea, when it just forms an abyss in our self that is too slow to notice clearly or articulate. Self-doubt intensifies and we over-analyse our reactions to people, their reactions to us, our reactions to the world, its reactions to us, our reactions to paper and strings, their reactions to us - when those reaction assumptions are compressed illusions, or notices twisted into unnecessary significance, and we ponder too much on all the thickness of questioning and the answers thus become strange and translucent; like our touches and purple skins. We do the same often in contemplating in meanings and definitions and purposes, and we forget to watch, and this simple acceptance of noticing thoughts as just touches of the mind; how we can consider them, but from a distance and this way they seem to lose their significance in that present moment, or its general fibers seem irrational or sensitive. It weakens analysing and evaluation, and it's like a delicate scan, and what forms from that seems too lighter and other-worldly wavering to understand when we are blurred.

(~ ~ ~ ... ~ ~ ~)
  "What a lovely way to die, To finally show where we all go, No one has to say goodbye -Brand New, 137 
"Hold my hand, lets turn to ash, I'll see you on the other-side" -Brand New, 137 "Across the sea, the birds are free, lets watch them scream across the sky" "Let’s all go and meet our maker, They don’t care whose side you’re on, We’re so afraid, I prayed and prayed, Before I learned to love the bomb"

"He lay awake, All night through, This was his world, no one else knew, Nothing to fear, Nothing to hide, Nothing but stars, to care as he cried" -Cat Stevens, He Was Alone #YouAreNotAlone (That is actually the song name i'm not just quoting a cringe fest hashtag here lol because we don't need it)


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