Efficiency runs on Burnout The biggest misconception isn’t the pursuit of paradise; it’s the belief that constant convenience and perfect order come without pain. When you push through exhaustion in silence, When you distance yourself emotionally, When the lonely effort of performing is celebrated, Beware of the trap of striving for efficiency every single day Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music , Spotify , iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT pro...
It was breathtaking to see the sun rise over Story Bridge. Yet, I couldn't help but be buried in my thoughts as I walked through the deserted alleyways. My soul was burdened by depression and anxiety, and the suggestions of others simply made things worse.
I had the impression that I was stuck pushing a wheelbarrow full of emotional baggage. My own concerns and doubts were causing me to delay and postpone my aspirations. Bouts of procrastination and hopelessness prevented me from realising my full potential. So I identified with every cause that offered relief because I felt like an important person.
But then I came across a motivational transcript without a title that promised to guide me towards inner tranquillity and contentment. Instead, I experienced a change in myself as I read the lines. My mental fog started to lift, and I began to perceive the world differently.
I walked through the busy streets. The life and vitality of the city hummed all around me. Once overpowering and disorganised, the flashing lights now made me feel awestruck and amazed. The writing made the world's splendour and majesty more apparent. I experienced a sense of tranquillity and pleasure that I had never experienced before as I gazed out over the city skyline with its tall towers and busy flashing lights.
The world was now a place of promise and beauty rather than fear and dread. It seemed as though I had come out of my own personal hell, where the writing of an unidentified influencer had significant meaning. However, now that I had discovered a route out, I could embrace the light and leave the darkness behind.
I realised at that precise time that the speech had given me a second chance to face my worries and uncertainties and appreciate the world's beauty. As the sun rose higher in the sky, it signalled the start of a brand-new day full of prospects and chances for growth and development.
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The Toxic Weight of Waiting The atmosphere has thickened. What was once a room defined by walls and chairs has dissolved into a toxic haze, an environmental manifestation of a mind under siege. She no longer sits; she kneels, anchored to the floor by an invisible gravity. Above her, the "toxic air" takes shape as a looming, jagged shadow infused with high-velocity greens and burning volcanic reds. It feels less like smoke and more like a predator, a towering silhouette of anxiety that has finally outgrown the space. The colours vibrate with a sickly, chemical heat, turning the very oxygen into something thick and sharp. In this room, the silence has become deafeningly loud. The fractured light from the previous moment has bled together, creating a suffocating shroud that blurs the line between the physical world and an internal fever dream. The momentum hasn't just stalled; it has been swallowed. She has diminished, huddled in the eye of this psychic storm, a solitary ...
The Ethereal Ascent The air in the room is violently still, creating a heavy pressure. She has long stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here is not a sequence but a weight. The waiting room has fractured; the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum flooring splinters into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream. High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly blues vibrate as if hardened walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege, a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She looks out, as if just awakened, and does the only thing left to recollect. She breathes. She waits. She waits for the shards to align once more. Be Creative and Innovative wit...
Waiting for Azrael The air in the room doesn't move; it simply presses She has long since stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here isn't a sequence, but a weight. The waiting room has fractured, the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum tiling splintering into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream . High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly yellow vibrate against the walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. She pulls her legs inward and forms a tight knot, dressed in indigo and bruised purple. She tries to find a purpose in her world that refuses to stand still. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege , a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She buries her face, lets t...
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