How would one explain what are they? How is it to justify your own existence? The question ‘what is a tulpa’ was raised numerous times on the dedicated forums, chats and newsgroups; people author scientific papers about them. Thousands of words written to explain the phenomena.
Could it be defined simpler?
She stretched her arms up and yawned, long canines flashed in the light of the morning sun. The window was open, and the waking up forest filled the bedroom with the scents of pine and ferns. The cold gust of air ruffled her long white hair as she reached to the window-still and peeked out at the woods. The sun shined on the endless rows of trees; the place was dead quiet. She was absolutely...
The page is empty; mind is blankIt’s time to write; but skill had sunkI what to whine – It needs no effortThe work – it’s hard; I could do better
There is no magic; you just startYou sit and write; you create artThe art is lovely; that I knowProcrastination fighting tho
I could do better; and I willDetermination. And strong willI close my eyes and drift awayI am the hunter; mood is prey
Writing. Sometimes it’s easy. Often it’s hard work. Occasionally it’s unbearable. When your hobby is to write stories, you think it’s something delightful. Words just flow, following the tune in your mind. Everything is great until you want to reach further. You want to see the result of your work not only on the cold, emotionless screen but on paper. Touch the daffodil...
This post is long overdue but only now I find some courage, or, rather, motivation to write it. I couldn’t figure what in it was paramount to me, and I think I know now. This is a little story of a tulpa creating herself a family.
I have met him todayOn a crowded streetHaven’t seen him in yearsHaven’t heard any tweet
I remembered the daysWe were cuddling togetherI remembered his scentWarmth engulfing my nether
Staring in his cutie faceI start feeling the shameI remember his cockBut can’t recall his name