2025/11/15
I have come across death multiple times. Suicide attempts, respiratory problems, allergy attacks, and many more. It is no big deal that I always wished for my own death. I do not have any religion and do not believe in the afterlife; I just know that we are nothing the second we are born until our last second alive. Besides all that, I still go through grief after the death of a loved one.
The first genuinely loved one I lost was my grandpa, he was my father figure through my childhood. We were remarkably close, but sometimes I think we would be closer now, since we share too many interests. Gramps was really into rock’ n roll and its subgenres, but as a child, I did not explore music as I do nowadays. I just know we would talk for hours about Dire Straits or some 70’s bands. He would take me and my brother to school every day, and we would spend the rest of our afternoon with him and grandma, just watching TV together, when he was not working, of course. He would defend my mother when my father beat her and was always there helping with ‘man chores’ since my father was not very present. I miss him so much, and I get angry with myself when I remember I did not even had the chance to say a final goodbye.
Sometimes death is cruel, but there is nothing we can do. He took his last breath in a chair, alone in the hospital. Because of the pandemic, every hospital was full of patients, and he did not even get the chance to have an appropriate room. The visit hours were tough since there were too many restrictions on COVID-19. I did not see his body.
My second loss was my childhood dog. We were best friends; his name was Simba. He was a Daschund, famously known as a ‘sausage dog.’ I got him as a Christmas present; he was in a Santa Claus outfit. He lived in my family's house for 3 or 4 years. We did not know at the time, but he had separation anxiety and sometimes would not let us leave the house. This was the motive that made my dad try to release him in the middle of a scrubland, but thankfully my grandparents did not let him, and took care of him for the rest of his life. I missed living with him, but since I spent more time in my grandparents’ house, it was not too much of a deal. I would play with him every day; we were inseparable. He was just a portion of my life, but for him, I was his entire life.
Unfortunately, after my grandpa’s death, my grandma sold their house and started living with my family, such as my dog. Thankfully, my father did not live with us, and he was not a problem anymore; little did I know, but my mother would be. Simba would still be anxious when we left our house, and sometimes aggressive when going to the vet. My mom got scared of him, because she did not know he was like that, since who would take care of these things was my grandpa. Then, she started leaving my dog trapped in an old bathroom of our house and would release him when we came back home. But she started leaving him trapped even when we were home. I tried discussing it with her, but it would not work. Every day I would leave water and food for him, clean his sheets, and try to entertain him.
It was no surprise that he got depressed. He stopped eating and drinking water, since all he did in there was sleep all day in his tiny room. Me and my grandma tried to take him to a vet, but nobody let us, since Simba was too thin, we would be accused of abuse. In less than 3 days, he died of hunger. I opened the bathroom door, and there he was dead. Frozen in an agonizing pose, just skin and bones. He spent the last 3 years of his life trapped in a bathroom. Every day I think how alone and abandoned he must have felt in his last seconds of life. He knew his parents had betrayed him; he knew his best friend betrayed him. And I cannot blame this on my family or just my mother. It was my fault too; I was the only one who would feed him and because of my stupid depression there were days I would not even leave the bed to feed him. It was everybody's fault that he died agonizing of hunger, such an innocent soul.
I cannot forgive myself; I cannot forget his stiff and skinny body just laying down on his dirty mattress, his atrophied legs from being in a small space for 3 years. All alone. He died alone knowing he was betrayed. He was freed from his to be family that just tortured him all his life.
My third and most recent loss was my great-grandmother. We were close too, since she and my grandma spent a lot of time together. I even lived with her for the first years of my life. She helped our family a lot and took exceptionally loving care of her six children, mostly as a solo mother. I cannot lie; she was amazing, such an incredible soul. She kept her family together even in times of conflict, doing everything possible to see her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren together. We would talk a lot in our afternoon teas, about school and relationships.
It is so sad to see how things change in less than a year. One day she started using oxygen tubes and it just went downhill since. Her hospital visits got frequent and always ended up in hospitalizations. Then, one day, she could not wake up, she struggled to stay awake, had some muscle spasm and her face contorted. It was her passage to the ‘afterlife.’ She died in less than 3 days in the hospital. The last visit I did to her I could not even cry, she was in so much pain that death would be a relief. I got to touch her cold arm one last time and left with her a bracelet I made for her a while ago.
What made me cry the most was seeing her children suffer, her four daughters and two sons, crying so much. I cannot imagine the pain they were feeling seeing their dead mother right in front of them. It must have been the saddest day of their lives. Her religion was Spiritism, and now, I imagine she is in the true world, sharing with her loved ones all her learning on earth.
I don’t believe in the afterlife or any religion at all. But I like to imagine that my grandpa, dog and great-grandmother are in a better place than this hell. Such precious souls, now trapped in stupid boxes. It’s sad to know that we are such grains of sand, that in a few years, nobody will remember them, but I will miss them for an entire life.
25/08/03
“To love authentically is to will the freedom of the other.”
Simone de Beauvoir once said this, raising an important question: is love rational?
In my opinion, love is inherently irrational. There’s no formula, no guaranteed pattern to what happens when you're in love. Why do we feel love at all? The possibilities are so broad, the experience so chaotic, that it seems entirely emotional and unpredictable.
Beauvoir argues that love can be rational if it respects the freedom and subjectivity of both people. It becomes irrational when one person sacrifices their identity or autonomy for the other. But even then—can we ever fully separate love from irrational impulses? We can’t put love into an equation, because it simply doesn’t make sense in that way.
Søren Kierkegaard offers another view: “To love is to be willing to be vulnerable.” He suggests that while romantic love might be irrational, true love is an act of will—something we choose over and over, like a leap of faith. That repetition gives it structure, a kind of rational pattern. But for such a pattern to emerge, countless unpredictable things must first happen. In that sense, love may be irrational—but it's also deeply valuable, because it demands risk, vulnerability, and authenticity.
Maybe love doesen't need to be put on an equation like everything else. Maybe its value lies precisely in emotions, and, that's why I can't really understand it.
Have you ever been told that you are unique? Probably yes. But have you ever wondered why someone would say that?
I mean, we all have different faces, voices, hobbies, friends, individual experiences, personalities, and circumstances. Each of us is shaped by different moments, relationships, and choices, which makes us distinct from one another. The way we perceive the world, the emotions we feel, and the way we express ourselves are all unique to each person. Perhaps we truly are unique.
But if we think about it—don’t we all share the same basic needs, emotions, desires, and even biological structures? We all belong to the same species. The person we are today is nothing more than a mosaic of every other individual who has influenced our lives. We all navigate through life trying to understand ourselves and the world around us.
What Do Philosophers Say About This?
On one hand, existentialist thinkers (my favorites, btw) emphasize individual freedom, choice, and responsibility. Jean-Paul Sartre argued that "existence precedes essence," meaning we are not born with a predefined purpose or identity. Instead, we create ourselves through our choices and actions. From this perspective, each person is unique because they continuously shape their own identity, a result of personal freedom and decisions.
On the other hand, existentialists also emphasize that we are bound by certain universal conditions of existence, such as the inevitability of death, the absurdity of life, and the struggle for meaning. So, while we are unique in our personal experiences, we are united by our shared human condition.
Many other philosophical perspectives touch on similar ideas. For example, 20th-century humanist philosophers argue that our uniqueness lies in our ability to recognize our own potential. However, the same philosophy suggests that we all strive for the same fundamental goals: survival, love, self-esteem, and self-actualization.
If you have ever read The Antichrist by Friedrich Nietzsche, you may have noticed that he often discusses Buddhism, considering it the most mature expression of life negation. This is because Buddhism believes that individuality is an illusion and that the sense of a permanent, unchanging self is a source of suffering. Instead, what we think of as "self" is merely a collection of ever-changing elements.
In the end, we are more alike than we are different. We are not as unique as we are often told. We are not special.
24/09/04
Missed school today. Spent the day sleeping and wondering.
Days like these makes me a little more depressed. I don't message no one and nobody messages me. I don't talk too much with my family. I don't do anything. Makes me feel like I have no purpose.
Everyday i'm programmed to go to school, study, talk to people, go back to my house and sleep. When I don't do any of that, I feel like a disgrace to the world. I'm not doing my purpose. If you read a lot of books, doesen't this feels familiar to you?
If it does, that's because of Franz Kafka. In the book 'The metamorphosis', the main character, Gregor Samsa, feels tied to it's job, and is afraid of being fired. When he turns, as a metaphor, into a giant bug, he is dehumanized, because he doesen't have any purpose anymore.
His family grew distant, and eventualy, killed him. What i'm trying to prove is that, you have a purpose until you don't do what you're programmed to do. And you will get dehumanized for it. Another thing we learn with Gregor, is that you shouldn't trust no one. He did so much for his family to feel loved and cherished by them, and in the end, got killed by them. We do so much things in our lives to be recognized and loved, but nothing matters. When you aren't doing what you are programmed to, you're not important.
I'd say that's an absurd. That's why Albert Camus talks a lot about this Kafka book in 'The Myth of Sisyphus', because this is life. This is what we are fated for the rest of our lives and we can't escape from it.
Today, perhaps not only oday, i've been with a cruel doubt. Maybe the only exit to this absurd is really suicide, and I should kill myself today. But, sadly, i'm afarid I can't, since i'm programmed to have a presentation at school, tomorrow.
24/04/10
I used to be good playing my favorite instruments, guitar and piano. I used to be good drawing. I used to be so good at writting. I used to be good at studying. I used to be good at math and physics, very good. I used to be good at talking. I used to be good in almost everything.
Now, I have become useless. I'm so weak. I can't do anything without shivering like an cold dog, without my neck feeling like it's in flames just to try not to cry while talking or eating, without feeling guity, feeling like an impostor, hiding and turning myself into a armadillo in front of people. I know the main cause, but i mainly just can't understand why i'm like this. Why do I feel like this, since I was little. I don't understand. I developed a very mature mindset since young but I still cannot understand why I feel this crippling sadness. Why I can't do anything I like anymore. Why is it so hard to be distracted with music, instruments, studying and anything. Why do I feel I am just becoming lazy? Why did I got so bad at what I used to be cherished for? Why??
why can't i just trust in myself for once ?
why does my own body is so tired of me that keeps me getting worse at everything?
24/03/08
For me it's so weird that i'm going to die as a completely no one. Not only me, but almost everyone in the world. Like, my life was insignificant to all the world, basically I was just born to waist oxygen. And if I die alone, it means that in my entire life I wasn't important for no one. I was just born to be invisible.
Y'know, I only say that because im just an medium level student, I don't like to speak, make friends, eat, learn new things and do anything. I'm invisible. I pratically only exist on the internet, or maybe don't, because i doubt someone will remember this site. And, maybe, this someone will have the same fate as me.
This just feel like a wasted life. No world changing ideas, no life-changing things, nothing. Just wasting time here. And there's gonna be always someone more brilliant than me. I was never wanted. I was an accident. An accident never wanted by my parents. I just made their life miserable. They were young, they still fought a lot but they had dreams. My father never wanted to marry, but he did because I was going to be born. To be treated by him as an completely no one. To ruin, not only his, but their dreams.
I'm just going to kill myself.
24/03/05
"The poet is a pretender, he pretends so completely that he even pretends that the pain he really feels is pain." Fernando Pessoa.
Fernando Pessoa was a very famous portuguese poet, he even is one of the most famous portuguese icon in the literature of Portugal. His poetry was famous for impling philosophic thoghts on it, and mostly famous know as the man with more than 40 personalities. Yet, his poetry was not so sad. Thats were his prhase kicks in.
There's pretty much two interpretations for this phrase;
Yes, the poet is a pretender. It's pain nor suffering never existed, it just writes sad things to people who can really relate. To people who want to find confort in the poetry, to all the lonely people who thinks that poetry can make their suffer disappear if heard from another, more likely, an famous nor know author/poet. Making sadness and suffering a subtle beauty, which only an pretender can achieve. That's the Pessoa's perspective about a poet's mind.
Or, yes, in fact, the poet IS a pretender! It pretends to be happy, while only beign able to express himself in the beauty of words, while in the real world he must be tough and recess mostly of it's feelings. Their hand dosen't have any porpouse than to write, their hands dosen't have any porpouse more than to create, as much as their lives dosen't have any porpouse than to pretend to feel something they really can't feel: Happiness, what is happines to a poet when it touches it pen on a piece of paper? What is sadness when a poet is far from his beloved poetry, which is the only way he can express itself?
Well, that's my point about it. The poet pretends to be happy, because the only way to express it's feelings it's trought words. I don't think Pessoa is wrong, but some poets, in fact, write from their hearts.
what do you think?
A lot of philosphers talk about relationships; not only romantic, of any kind. In one hand, Nietzsche says that a relationship must help you grow as a person, not holding you back. In the other hand, Kierkegaard believed that relationships involves a deep commitment to the well-being of the other person and requires self-sacrifice and vulnerability. It's almost the same thing, but these two perspectives have a lot of difference.
One says about the importance of individuality, and the ohter, about existencialism.
To be honest, I don't agree with none. Nietzsche sounds selfish and Kierkegaard sounds like he's focusing only in the other person, forgetting about itself. In my opinion, relationships only make you worse, mostly, the romantic ones.
Why, you may ask? Simply: it's idiot.
You can't trust no one, nor belive. If you get too achatted, in the end, you will feel horrible for losing someone. If you get too confortable, you may irritate the other one. You have to be careful, becouse showing your true self can hurt the other. You never know what someone is thinking about you. The others will never know about what you think about them. In other ways, it can make your life miserable, such as you can make someone's life horrible too. Sometimes, relationships even interrupt you in studies or important things, you never know. For me, that's absurd as hell. Nothings seems good in this life, huh?
But, as much as pessimist I am, there's still good things about it. You know, the feeling of care, that one feeling when a friend compliments you to someone, going out with someone cool, and all that things. It's temporary, but makes you feel well. A little like Kierkegaard said.
(this topic may sounds stupid too but I witnessed my father cry like a newborn after his girlfriend ended relationships with him because they fought badly and he was abusive towards her. Feel bad for the girl but I never tought I'd saw my father cry so much and try to use me so the girl would come back with him and that's the stupidiest thing I saw until now)
Wednesday, feb 14, 2024
I think it's weird to have dreams. One time, I dreamed that I was beign chased, and when I woke up, I felt a touch on my shoulder, but there was no one by my side. What made my brain so scared at a point of imagining the touch of the thing chasing me?
Well, Freud, funder os psychoanalysis, said in his theory known as the "Interpretation of Dreams" that dreams represent a compromise between the conscious and uncouncious mind, that's why most of our dreams are things we desire or thought. There where two times recently that I've dreamed about things I desire, like seeing my dead grandpa again and staying at his old house, and i've dreamed about having an partner. Well, i'm not gonna lie, I have a deep desire to see my grandfather again, but during the partner dream I remember I was thinking about how it's having someone really loving you. This only proves that Freud's psychoanalysis was right.
But, what about my nightmare? Why did I felt this touch? Why would my conscious side think about that during my sleep?
Freud, in this same psychoanalysis, said that nightmares are unsolved conflicts or repressed desires from the uncouscious mind, in a disgused form. They symbolise fears, anxieties and traumatic experiencies that are unresolved issues from us. And, in his theory, our brain thinks that by bringing them up to us will make we have attitude to solve them. Which, I think it doesen't really help our situations, but, the thouch i've felt was like a 'pushing hand' to make me solve my problem.
This isn't the worse nightmare I had. Little Keda had a traumatic one. I was sitting in an park chair, with my father by my side. Suddenly, everything turned red, and my father had disappeard. I woke up very sleepy, but screaming for my father. He then came to me, and irritated asked how I was. I held his hand until I slept again, and he went to the bathroom. But I dreamed about him abandoning mee again in the park chair, as a war tank was beign pointed at me, with everything in an red color. I screamed for my father again, but he was at the bathroom. I continued screaming, but he didn't came. And eventualy i fell asleep, alone.
I don't talk to my father anymore, he went far away, and now has a girlfriend and it's living his best life. During the time I had the dream, he was abusive towards my family, but I didn't want to not have a father figure, besides he beign like that. Freud didn't belive that our dreams are 'future visions', he only belived that it was our deeply diseres. My father going away from my family was a deeply disere, but not having a father anymore was a represseed feeling.
The dream psychoanalysis is very weird, right?
Tuesday, feb 13, 2024
Recently, i've been reading Camus books. And, I noticed that he speaks a lot about the absurd. So, keda here had a big reflection about the absurd. It's like, trying to find a meaning in an irracional life. It's trying to be something or to do something special, besides being impossible. We try to find a purpose in our lives, to escape the absurd, besides we don't have fundaments to do so. The absurd is our universe, our limit, and we can't scape it. So, the absurd connects to suicide. People who commit suicide knows the real meaning of life, which is, to live the absurd. So, they try to escape it.
So, suicide is the only way to escape the absurd life?
Well, for Camus, not at all
Camus said that, besides being an escape to the absurd, it's not the only way. Yea, life can be cruel sometimes but, besides the universe being our limit and indiferent, we, at some point of our lives, will escape the absurd. Not in a death way, but we will. He said that it doesen't matter the age we will discover the exit to the absurd. We have to be brave enough to overcome it.
I think my life is absurd, for sure. But, i hope someday, not only I, people will overcome it. Maybe our world will be a better place. Who knows?
Welcome to the reflections page. Just messing around...
i'm going to add things soon