Time heals wounds. Whoever came up with that saying, is a madman. Time doesn’t heal, and time doesn’t make you forget the most painful memories. Time is used as a lame excuse; a sense of hope that you would rather rely on, a quick fix that you believe will defeat your wrecked nervous system. But Time doesn’t stop for you; time keeps going, clocks keep ticking and days keep passing, dragging your life along with it. You can live your life believing that time will eventually heal your wounds, and keep rewinding this moronic quote in the back of your head as a tape stuck on repeat. But you will never move on from that stage of life, where you used time as an excuse. You will never detach yourself from the past, and move into the present. Because you rely on time, an inanimate being which left you behind. When all you need to stitch up your wounds, is your mind, which is not dependent on time.

    me (via fuck-with-me6969)

    The “I” is the dark point in consciousness, as on the retina the exact point at which the nerve of sight enters is blind, as the brain itself is entirely without sensation, the body of the sun is dark, and the eye sees all except itself. Our faculty of knowledge is directed entirely towards without, in accordance with the fact that it is the product of a brain function, which has arisen for the purpose of mere self-maintenance, thus of the search for nourishment and the capture of prey. Therefore every one knows himself only as this individual as it presents itself in external perception. If, on the other hand, he could bring to consciousness what he is besides and beyond this, then he would willingly give up his individuality, smile at the tenacity of his attachment to it.

    Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation (via whyallcaps)