Friday, April 29, 2011
Today is a Jesus Fuck day.
Sometimes I can look at myself and say, "Yeah. It's not too bad." And then there are the more frequent days of, "Jesus fuck."
Thursday, April 28, 2011
I just want a Pebble. Maybe.
I've been turning these words around inside. They're ripping holes in my brain, and making room for you to crawl within. Your mouth is poison. The only anecdote is another phrase from you; another admission. I think it may be true that none of us truly know what we want until it's standing before us, angrily pointing it's finger to the sky.
The last time we spoke, you said, "I realized once you were gone just how much I loved you. I still do. And I won't ever stop. I'm dying alone unless you love me back."
It just made me think about people and what we feel versus what we say. And it makes me extremely curious as to why we can love someone, or at least think we do, and do something horribly regrettable to them. How do we know what we need? And how do we know what to give? Can't two people just exist beside each other without ruining it?
First there was L, who said I was too weird for him to bring home to meet his mom, so that meant it wasn't going to work.
Then there was M, who loved me just fine until a fateful bus trip to Atlanta, where he met his "true soul mate".
Then we have G, who was mature until he wasn't anymore. If it's either my friends or you, it's going to be friends. Sorrehh.
And then the lovely D. I knew from the start it wasn't meant to be, but it was fun and mutual and ended happily.
Then we have M, who was delightful to say the least, but we both left college and being 900 miles apart wasn't fun after a while.
Now we're at the charming B, who after the first night over at my apt told me I'd make a great wife because I made a great dinner and cleaned everything. He kept grabbing my hips and "inspecting my baby making potential". I knew then that it wouldn't last much longer.
And then we have J. It was the perfect mutual agreement until it wasn't anymore. 3 fucking proposals from this one. And no, I never accepted. Only once did I wonder how different things would be if I'd accepted. But I think that would have been much worse.
All in all I guess my history is just scattered and confusing at best. Are we supposed to be looking for a mate or a buddy or a friend who you happen to sleep with sometimes i mean what the fucking fuck. This is one of those books with way too many chapters and pages within those chapters and everyone is on opposite ends of the novel. It's like humans have a mix of all the instincts of the entire animal kingdom, so you end up with a penguin trying to snag a leopard. Leopards wanna fuck and then go their own way, and penguins want to bring you the most beautiful pebble on the beach to profess their love so you can be life-long mates. And when the penguin brings the leopard a pebble, she will smack it from his little webbed foot and then eat him. Sounds a lot like humans to me.
The last time we spoke, you said, "I realized once you were gone just how much I loved you. I still do. And I won't ever stop. I'm dying alone unless you love me back."
It just made me think about people and what we feel versus what we say. And it makes me extremely curious as to why we can love someone, or at least think we do, and do something horribly regrettable to them. How do we know what we need? And how do we know what to give? Can't two people just exist beside each other without ruining it?
First there was L, who said I was too weird for him to bring home to meet his mom, so that meant it wasn't going to work.
Then there was M, who loved me just fine until a fateful bus trip to Atlanta, where he met his "true soul mate".
Then we have G, who was mature until he wasn't anymore. If it's either my friends or you, it's going to be friends. Sorrehh.
And then the lovely D. I knew from the start it wasn't meant to be, but it was fun and mutual and ended happily.
Then we have M, who was delightful to say the least, but we both left college and being 900 miles apart wasn't fun after a while.
Now we're at the charming B, who after the first night over at my apt told me I'd make a great wife because I made a great dinner and cleaned everything. He kept grabbing my hips and "inspecting my baby making potential". I knew then that it wouldn't last much longer.
And then we have J. It was the perfect mutual agreement until it wasn't anymore. 3 fucking proposals from this one. And no, I never accepted. Only once did I wonder how different things would be if I'd accepted. But I think that would have been much worse.
All in all I guess my history is just scattered and confusing at best. Are we supposed to be looking for a mate or a buddy or a friend who you happen to sleep with sometimes i mean what the fucking fuck. This is one of those books with way too many chapters and pages within those chapters and everyone is on opposite ends of the novel. It's like humans have a mix of all the instincts of the entire animal kingdom, so you end up with a penguin trying to snag a leopard. Leopards wanna fuck and then go their own way, and penguins want to bring you the most beautiful pebble on the beach to profess their love so you can be life-long mates. And when the penguin brings the leopard a pebble, she will smack it from his little webbed foot and then eat him. Sounds a lot like humans to me.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Corrupt.
We are not artists, but works of art. It's a small quivering inside; it gains and swells, shaking my frame. I'll become nothing but bones, angrily pointing towards the sky from a dusty grave. I am protective of words; all binge and no purge. My thoughts are worthless as they escape my mouth, blowing away to nothing. All we are is what we leave behind; a jaded legacy of prose and a trail of broken promises and broken hearts. Our world of glass reflects everything back to us as inaccurate portrayals of reality. We are formless creatures in a world of structure we have created out of foolishness. All is full of love, but we're not receiving.
In a flash of inspiration, I will create wonder that flows from my fingertips. This can envelope you in awe, and leave you trembling for the sound. Are you listening?
You gave me a name today. This proclamation, a simple gesture. Just for someone to admit my existence to a world of others suddenly made me feel real. This name, a piece of my reality, suddenly becomes sacred. What does it even mean to me? Another string of words in their worthlessness, precipitously gaining worth.
In a flash of inspiration, I will create wonder that flows from my fingertips. This can envelope you in awe, and leave you trembling for the sound. Are you listening?
You gave me a name today. This proclamation, a simple gesture. Just for someone to admit my existence to a world of others suddenly made me feel real. This name, a piece of my reality, suddenly becomes sacred. What does it even mean to me? Another string of words in their worthlessness, precipitously gaining worth.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
50 Random Things.
1. I carry my passport with me always, just in case I decide to leave one day.
2. I used to be a girl scout.
3. I seriously want to get struck by lightning one day. (In fact I think it would be one of the best ways to die)
4. I love to create things, but am horribly embarrassed to show my creations to anyone. If I ever do show you anything I've done, it means I trust you.
5. For example, when I was a freshman in high school my English teacher submitted a poem I wrote to a writing contest without telling me. When I won, I turned down the offer of having it published and let the runner-up have the glory...all because the thought of anyone else seeing what I wrote was so humiliating I couldn't possibly allow it.
6. While most females want to lay in the sunlight and get a tan, I want to lay in the moonlight and glow in the dark.
7. I am prone to random moments of obscure genius that usually turn out to be sheer stupidity.
8. A publisher offered me 15k to finish writing a book I'd started. I declined, because I knew I wouldn't be proud of the book I was writing.
9. Sometimes when I'm bored, I make up interpretive dances to songs inside my head.
10. I humiliate myself on a daily basis just by being alive- everything I do is embarrassing and awkward.
11. The only way I know I'm sane is that I still have the ability to question my sanity.
12. I will have something I want to say to someone, usually something good, and will never say it because I can't decide if I'm allowed to say it or not.
13. When given any sort of compliment, I never say thank you. A long time ago I read about how in Japan, when someone compliments you, saying thank you is a show of arrogance and superiority, and ever since then I try to never say thank you. I just smile and usually say 'that's quite a compliment'. Of course this isn't Japan, but it made sense to me.
14. My favorite snack EVER is bananas and strawberries with honey. Second place is celery with kool aid. Something about the celery with the kool aid is just bomb.
15. I have my own tattoo gun. I made it at home one day out of some VCR parts, a mechanical pencil, an old phone charger, a button, gardening wires, and tape. It actually works quite well, but I discovered it's kinda hard to ink yourself when you've never inked anything before.
16. I'm a slut for glitter.
17. Yes, I am 23. And yes, I still wear bows and things in my hair. Nope. I don't really care. Cause I like it.
18. I seem to attract all oddities of humanity. It's usually horny old men, one time it was a homeless man who called me a goddess, some people sniff me... I'm just a magnet for it, I guess. But it makes life a lot more interesting (and sometimes a lot more frightening).
19. I have created my own religion, and it works for me amazingly well.
20. I also invented my own language, with a complete alphabet and dictionary.
21. I developed a mathematical equation once to predict a future event, but it only worked once, and was terminally flawed. It was awesome for about 10 minutes though.
22. If there are pillows and blankets, I will automatically snuggle.
23. I have slowly turned into one of those pathetic people who cringe to live without their cell phone and iPod.
24. I really don't understand what other people see in me.
25. I tend to stay awake for 2 or 3 days until I become insanely delirious, and the best part of it is laughing hysterically at practically nothing.
26. I'm only on number 26?! Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.
27. Sometimes when people say things to me, I answer them in my head, but forget to say it out loud.
28. I am not afraid to die.
29. My natural hair color is platinum blond...
30. I often post things to Facebook or my blog, and then immediately delete them.
31. My words are often jumbled, because there is so much to say, I know nothing need be said.
32. I usually don't make any sense.
33. I have a $10 bill in a picture frame from when I was a kid. My grandpa sent it to me in a card, and he wrote something on it, and I couldn't bring myself to spend it.
34. I've never broken a bone or been seriously ill.
35. I never learned how to ride a bike.
36. Sometimes I worry about what my punishment will be for the wrongs I've done.
37. I miss my father immensely, even though he doesn't really deserve or want it.
38. The smell of newly trimmed grass mixed with the smell of spring rain equals omfg.
39. I didn't realize that pickles were pickled cucumbers until about 3 years ago. It just never occurred to me in my first 20 years of life.
40. I can listen to the same song on repeat for hours. (not any song, mind you. but certain ones.)
41. I wear 6 weaved bracelets every day. Each one is from a certain time, and they remind me of things I need not forget.
42. People always ask me if my snake bites were painful, and I lie and say no. When in fact, they hurt like hell because I did them myself, hanging over my bathroom sink, ripping my flesh apart with a dull sewing needle cause that's all I had, and I wanted them right that minute. But it was worth it. I wouldn't have my mouth any other way.
43. I got my tongue pierced when I was 16, and I still have it. I have no idea why I even got it done, but I still don't want to let it heal.
44. It doesn't take much for me to become uncalm. I don't like flip out or anything, I just mean I become nervous and scream on the inside like "OMFG", and it doesn't take a lot for it to happen.
45. Once I make a commitment, it's for life... or until some unforeseen calamity ruins it.
46. I want to quit smoking, but every time I start to quit something happens that makes me want to smoke really, really bad.
47. If you hurt one of my very dear friends, I will offer to kill you.
48. I despise the sound of my voice.
49. I hate having my picture taken or being video taped, cause I always look retarded.
50. This is the worst list of 50 random things anyone has ever compiled.
2. I used to be a girl scout.
3. I seriously want to get struck by lightning one day. (In fact I think it would be one of the best ways to die)
4. I love to create things, but am horribly embarrassed to show my creations to anyone. If I ever do show you anything I've done, it means I trust you.
5. For example, when I was a freshman in high school my English teacher submitted a poem I wrote to a writing contest without telling me. When I won, I turned down the offer of having it published and let the runner-up have the glory...all because the thought of anyone else seeing what I wrote was so humiliating I couldn't possibly allow it.
6. While most females want to lay in the sunlight and get a tan, I want to lay in the moonlight and glow in the dark.
7. I am prone to random moments of obscure genius that usually turn out to be sheer stupidity.
8. A publisher offered me 15k to finish writing a book I'd started. I declined, because I knew I wouldn't be proud of the book I was writing.
9. Sometimes when I'm bored, I make up interpretive dances to songs inside my head.
10. I humiliate myself on a daily basis just by being alive- everything I do is embarrassing and awkward.
11. The only way I know I'm sane is that I still have the ability to question my sanity.
12. I will have something I want to say to someone, usually something good, and will never say it because I can't decide if I'm allowed to say it or not.
13. When given any sort of compliment, I never say thank you. A long time ago I read about how in Japan, when someone compliments you, saying thank you is a show of arrogance and superiority, and ever since then I try to never say thank you. I just smile and usually say 'that's quite a compliment'. Of course this isn't Japan, but it made sense to me.
14. My favorite snack EVER is bananas and strawberries with honey. Second place is celery with kool aid. Something about the celery with the kool aid is just bomb.
15. I have my own tattoo gun. I made it at home one day out of some VCR parts, a mechanical pencil, an old phone charger, a button, gardening wires, and tape. It actually works quite well, but I discovered it's kinda hard to ink yourself when you've never inked anything before.
16. I'm a slut for glitter.
17. Yes, I am 23. And yes, I still wear bows and things in my hair. Nope. I don't really care. Cause I like it.
18. I seem to attract all oddities of humanity. It's usually horny old men, one time it was a homeless man who called me a goddess, some people sniff me... I'm just a magnet for it, I guess. But it makes life a lot more interesting (and sometimes a lot more frightening).
19. I have created my own religion, and it works for me amazingly well.
20. I also invented my own language, with a complete alphabet and dictionary.
21. I developed a mathematical equation once to predict a future event, but it only worked once, and was terminally flawed. It was awesome for about 10 minutes though.
22. If there are pillows and blankets, I will automatically snuggle.
23. I have slowly turned into one of those pathetic people who cringe to live without their cell phone and iPod.
24. I really don't understand what other people see in me.
25. I tend to stay awake for 2 or 3 days until I become insanely delirious, and the best part of it is laughing hysterically at practically nothing.
26. I'm only on number 26?! Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.
27. Sometimes when people say things to me, I answer them in my head, but forget to say it out loud.
28. I am not afraid to die.
29. My natural hair color is platinum blond...
30. I often post things to Facebook or my blog, and then immediately delete them.
31. My words are often jumbled, because there is so much to say, I know nothing need be said.
32. I usually don't make any sense.
33. I have a $10 bill in a picture frame from when I was a kid. My grandpa sent it to me in a card, and he wrote something on it, and I couldn't bring myself to spend it.
34. I've never broken a bone or been seriously ill.
35. I never learned how to ride a bike.
36. Sometimes I worry about what my punishment will be for the wrongs I've done.
37. I miss my father immensely, even though he doesn't really deserve or want it.
38. The smell of newly trimmed grass mixed with the smell of spring rain equals omfg.
39. I didn't realize that pickles were pickled cucumbers until about 3 years ago. It just never occurred to me in my first 20 years of life.
40. I can listen to the same song on repeat for hours. (not any song, mind you. but certain ones.)
41. I wear 6 weaved bracelets every day. Each one is from a certain time, and they remind me of things I need not forget.
42. People always ask me if my snake bites were painful, and I lie and say no. When in fact, they hurt like hell because I did them myself, hanging over my bathroom sink, ripping my flesh apart with a dull sewing needle cause that's all I had, and I wanted them right that minute. But it was worth it. I wouldn't have my mouth any other way.
43. I got my tongue pierced when I was 16, and I still have it. I have no idea why I even got it done, but I still don't want to let it heal.
44. It doesn't take much for me to become uncalm. I don't like flip out or anything, I just mean I become nervous and scream on the inside like "OMFG", and it doesn't take a lot for it to happen.
45. Once I make a commitment, it's for life... or until some unforeseen calamity ruins it.
46. I want to quit smoking, but every time I start to quit something happens that makes me want to smoke really, really bad.
47. If you hurt one of my very dear friends, I will offer to kill you.
48. I despise the sound of my voice.
49. I hate having my picture taken or being video taped, cause I always look retarded.
50. This is the worst list of 50 random things anyone has ever compiled.
Crrrsh
I plugged into myself to listen to my own static. And I heard one tiny voice, screaming from somewhere far away. It said, "You're smothering me."
Monday, April 25, 2011
Mamihlapinatapai:
A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to initiate.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Everything is eventual.
I don't believe in coincidence. Energy aligns for a reason. Every good and bad thing each person endures are happening with purpose, and it is our responsibility to look beyond our emotion and walk away with some sense of understanding. Here's a mind fuck for you- and this is the way I try to see everything-
Imagine that you die. You walk away from your shell, and are greeted by a being. This being explains that they are not God, because you are God. You have lived a million incarnations on the plane of earth, and will continue to live millions more until you have learned all you need to know. You are every single being on the plane of earth. You are who you knew yourself to be, the spirit you identified as, and you are your mother, your father, your wife, your children, your fucking dry cleaner. You were Hitler, Jesus, Gandhi, every child who died from malnutrition and every soldier who was blown to shit for some religious doctrine. You are God, and you continue to live every incarnation through all of time until you have learned everything there is to learn. This being you have met upon your death created you, because he is also God. He created everything on the plane of earth for your enlightenment, and he does the same thing for many other Gods on many different planes.
I try to live my life based on this principle. Sort of like "treat others the way you want to be treated." I see every being on earth as a version of myself, and I treat them with love and kindness to the best of my ability, and learn anything I can from them. If we could all live our lives in this way, maybe we could find some sort of peace. I don't intend to imply that I consider myself God. I have no God-like traits, and I don't see myself as above anyone or anything. No one is above anyone else, and yet this is what society has taught us. If you want to matter, you must be plastic, you must be superior to the rest of the human race. It doesn't even matter if you are smart or loving; as long as you're a sex symbol with plenty of cash and kiss the right ass, you matter.
Don't the sheeple realize that if they woke up and stopped giving a fuck about these idiotic superficialities that the superficialities would begin to cease to exist? Then maybe more people could see what we all should be seeing but can't.
Imagine that you die. You walk away from your shell, and are greeted by a being. This being explains that they are not God, because you are God. You have lived a million incarnations on the plane of earth, and will continue to live millions more until you have learned all you need to know. You are every single being on the plane of earth. You are who you knew yourself to be, the spirit you identified as, and you are your mother, your father, your wife, your children, your fucking dry cleaner. You were Hitler, Jesus, Gandhi, every child who died from malnutrition and every soldier who was blown to shit for some religious doctrine. You are God, and you continue to live every incarnation through all of time until you have learned everything there is to learn. This being you have met upon your death created you, because he is also God. He created everything on the plane of earth for your enlightenment, and he does the same thing for many other Gods on many different planes.
I try to live my life based on this principle. Sort of like "treat others the way you want to be treated." I see every being on earth as a version of myself, and I treat them with love and kindness to the best of my ability, and learn anything I can from them. If we could all live our lives in this way, maybe we could find some sort of peace. I don't intend to imply that I consider myself God. I have no God-like traits, and I don't see myself as above anyone or anything. No one is above anyone else, and yet this is what society has taught us. If you want to matter, you must be plastic, you must be superior to the rest of the human race. It doesn't even matter if you are smart or loving; as long as you're a sex symbol with plenty of cash and kiss the right ass, you matter.
Don't the sheeple realize that if they woke up and stopped giving a fuck about these idiotic superficialities that the superficialities would begin to cease to exist? Then maybe more people could see what we all should be seeing but can't.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Projects 101
I am famous for coming up with random ideas and working on them for about 5 seconds and then forgetting it ever happened. But THIS time, it will be different. I've been spending most of my time working on something, since I have nothing else to do. It's been good, because I am seriously on the verge of a psychotic break in which my brain finally shuts off and says "Fuck you and your sad life...I have shit to do elsewhere."
So, I've been making these little cards that say random things, and once I have enough I plan on just handing them all out to random people in public. I was thinking I could put my website or something on the back of the card, and once I am in a better place in which creation can flow more naturally, I can begin to create art once more, and post it on the website. And then when I hand out these little random cards, maybe someone will go to the website and actually see some shred of merit in what I have created and pay me money to be this fucking weird. Run-on sentences!! Woo!
"All my life I've been good, but now, I'm thinking "What the hell?!" Yeah basically I feel like I've been avoiding facing my own self for the past 23 years. I have these little moments when I find honesty in the mirror, but mostly I try to pretend to be anything else. So fuck it. I have to work with what I have. I don't have much, but maybe it's enough. If nothing else, it will be glorious to feel a paintbrush in my hand and have paint splatters on my arms and face again. I even miss ruining good clothes because I felt inspired and just dived right in without fear of destruction. It's just another part of me I locked up and forgot about.
Speaking of which, music is the other thing I used to be inspired by. I discovered earlier tonight that I've still got it. I composed a song in about 15 minutes. It's not the greatest, but it was fun, and it woke up that creative sparkle that used to gleam in my eyes. So here's to creation.
So, I've been making these little cards that say random things, and once I have enough I plan on just handing them all out to random people in public. I was thinking I could put my website or something on the back of the card, and once I am in a better place in which creation can flow more naturally, I can begin to create art once more, and post it on the website. And then when I hand out these little random cards, maybe someone will go to the website and actually see some shred of merit in what I have created and pay me money to be this fucking weird. Run-on sentences!! Woo!
"All my life I've been good, but now, I'm thinking "What the hell?!" Yeah basically I feel like I've been avoiding facing my own self for the past 23 years. I have these little moments when I find honesty in the mirror, but mostly I try to pretend to be anything else. So fuck it. I have to work with what I have. I don't have much, but maybe it's enough. If nothing else, it will be glorious to feel a paintbrush in my hand and have paint splatters on my arms and face again. I even miss ruining good clothes because I felt inspired and just dived right in without fear of destruction. It's just another part of me I locked up and forgot about.
Speaking of which, music is the other thing I used to be inspired by. I discovered earlier tonight that I've still got it. I composed a song in about 15 minutes. It's not the greatest, but it was fun, and it woke up that creative sparkle that used to gleam in my eyes. So here's to creation.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Implode:
to collapse inwardly with force as a result of the external pressure being greater than the internal pressure.
Avoiding this would be a prudent approach to existence.
Avoiding this would be a prudent approach to existence.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Kill;
slay, murder, slaughter, execute, destroy, exterminate, eradicate, put down, put to sleep, assassinate, massacre, dispatch.
GTFO
On the surface; simplicity. A prosthetic heart, still beating through its bruises. You dug yourself from your shallow grave, tearing the roots apart in your departure. Nothing can ever be as it seems, and no one will disappoint you so much as I. So apologetic. I can't help my laughter as you cry. Omnipotence, nurturing malevolence.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
My Own Codes of Conduct
1. Everyone is a hypocrite. Even me and you.
2. Never stop thinking. It is the mentality that someone 'thinks too much' that breeds stupidity and sheeple. Your mind is the most important tool you have; if you stop using it, it will atrophy. Question everything.
3. Everything will be okay. If you worry about acne you'll get a fucking pimple.
4. We should not be afraid to talk about anything. We shouldn't fear reality.
5. Doing pointless things will prevent you from actively restraining or hiding yourself from the redundant.
6. Stop rushing. Shut up and embrace the sound of silence.
7. Religion shouldn't be taught, it should be found. No one should tell you what to believe except you. And on that subject...
8. Don't be restrained by one religion. People change every moment of every day. Minds grow and evolve. Religion has no law, so feel free to mix and match. Make your own.
9. Time does not exist. The sun never sets or rises. There are no days or years. There is only your life. Earlier today you were born, and death is predicted later in the evening.
10. We will always be in a transitional phase. Look outside and know that everything will be replaced at some point. This existence is temporary.
11. Every now and then, it is beneficial to take something that you see every day and try to see it in a new light. Renew its existence.
12. Be happy, but never force it.
13. Words will always just be words. Love is just another four letter word; only the feeling is real.
14. Prove you're alive. Do anything to remind the world that you are still here.
2. Never stop thinking. It is the mentality that someone 'thinks too much' that breeds stupidity and sheeple. Your mind is the most important tool you have; if you stop using it, it will atrophy. Question everything.
3. Everything will be okay. If you worry about acne you'll get a fucking pimple.
4. We should not be afraid to talk about anything. We shouldn't fear reality.
5. Doing pointless things will prevent you from actively restraining or hiding yourself from the redundant.
6. Stop rushing. Shut up and embrace the sound of silence.
7. Religion shouldn't be taught, it should be found. No one should tell you what to believe except you. And on that subject...
8. Don't be restrained by one religion. People change every moment of every day. Minds grow and evolve. Religion has no law, so feel free to mix and match. Make your own.
9. Time does not exist. The sun never sets or rises. There are no days or years. There is only your life. Earlier today you were born, and death is predicted later in the evening.
10. We will always be in a transitional phase. Look outside and know that everything will be replaced at some point. This existence is temporary.
11. Every now and then, it is beneficial to take something that you see every day and try to see it in a new light. Renew its existence.
12. Be happy, but never force it.
13. Words will always just be words. Love is just another four letter word; only the feeling is real.
14. Prove you're alive. Do anything to remind the world that you are still here.
"A multitude of words is no proof of a prudent mind."
People will say things, and then later on it becomes apparent that they didn't mean what they said. Or, more accurately, perhaps they simply said those words or made an agreement and then they don't know what to do about it. I don't really know. I have a very limited understanding of social etiquette. I have questions, and refuse to ask them, because I honestly don't know if my questions are bothersome or even completely unwarranted.
It has become clear to me that whatever issues I have been trying to work out will have to be made clear to a professional. Although I know what my three biggest obstacles are, and I know the main one is untreatable, there has to be something I can do to make this all easier. I can't keep over thinking scenarios, and drawing conclusions that aren't built on solid evidence. I can't yo-yo between yes and no anymore. It's either yes, this is the way it is, or no, I am mistaken. And with the way my mind weaves elaborate tapestries to outline everything, it is impossible for me to stop and simply exist.
Everyone knows that the world is confusing and paradoxical, and that some things will never be made clear. But most people can know this, accept it to some extent, and move on. I, on the other hand, cannot stop my mind from constantly thinking and dissecting these things on a quest for truth and understanding. I need a happy medium, for I am not a philosopher, and I am not beyond hope.
What the hell has allowed me to start thinking that I am somehow burdened more than anyone else in this dilemma of existence? We're all on the same path, enduring the same inane actions and processes. So thankfully, I think I've reached the point that I can willingly stop.
It has become clear to me that whatever issues I have been trying to work out will have to be made clear to a professional. Although I know what my three biggest obstacles are, and I know the main one is untreatable, there has to be something I can do to make this all easier. I can't keep over thinking scenarios, and drawing conclusions that aren't built on solid evidence. I can't yo-yo between yes and no anymore. It's either yes, this is the way it is, or no, I am mistaken. And with the way my mind weaves elaborate tapestries to outline everything, it is impossible for me to stop and simply exist.
Everyone knows that the world is confusing and paradoxical, and that some things will never be made clear. But most people can know this, accept it to some extent, and move on. I, on the other hand, cannot stop my mind from constantly thinking and dissecting these things on a quest for truth and understanding. I need a happy medium, for I am not a philosopher, and I am not beyond hope.
What the hell has allowed me to start thinking that I am somehow burdened more than anyone else in this dilemma of existence? We're all on the same path, enduring the same inane actions and processes. So thankfully, I think I've reached the point that I can willingly stop.
Monday, April 18, 2011
http://www.writesomething.net/
this is great for writing something down that's embarrassing, cause no one will know you wrote it!
this is great for writing something down that's embarrassing, cause no one will know you wrote it!
Oh, Clarinet, Where have you gone?
Yeah, this is a B flat Clarinet.
And could you believe I can rock the shit out of that^ on a b flat clarinet?!?!...oh yeah baby. I'm a total band geek...
Falling Water
I just had a flashback of visiting Falling Water. I had forgotten this place for years, and I don't see how, because it was completely amazing.
Things that should fill you with awe...
- The unimaginable vastness of the universe.
- That the properties of the universe are conducive (perhaps even almost optimally conducive) to life.
- That the apparently mindless process of evolution can, and even tends to, result in forms of increasing complexity, beauty, and value.
- That there is something rather than nothing.
- That qualia exist.
- That some form of freedom invades our deterministic world.
- The unreasonable tenacity of life.
- That our universe seems to be a computation.
- That we can understand our universe and that such understanding enables control.
- That the future is boundless.
- That our existence required miracles so unimaginably unlikely as to boggle the mind.
Violence
I have this recurring moment. It seems unwarranted. Sometimes I know it's about to happen but not always. I will be doing anything at all, e.g., reading, drawing, making dinner, shaving my legs, doesn't matter....and slowly I stop, because I feel something inside me push my heart into my throat. As I look up, I realize I've not been breathing for several minutes, and my lungs pull in air and it feels like I'm exploding. And as I calm myself, I know it's only just begun. After the exploding comes the shifting. I look straight ahead, and the entire world moves 90 degrees on the horizontal plane. Once everything has shifted, I step to the next platform. I then watch as everything drips away like hot wax. Everything melts into itself and becomes what I know it truly is, forming the world I know to be real. And once I blink, reclaiming my eyes, everything implodes. And then I'm standing in the kitchen, realizing someone is yelling at me because I've been standing at the sink letting the water overflow. But I am overflowing, and it seems so insignificant that I can't force myself to care...to even pretend to care to satisfy you.
This is always where I start to ruin everything. I can't make myself care about these insignificant issues that seem to plague your daily life. Empathy is lost at times. It isn't that I don't care for the individual, it's that I don't see why they turn tiny fractures into shattered bones. I know I'm always bleeding, but I bleed for so many reasons that no one will understand. It becomes mutual in this way. I bleed for the universe, for the whole of evil that slowly eats away at all of humanity. And I can't spare the empathetic courtesies to understand how you can still bleed for something as small as a broken nail, just as you can't see why I don't.
I don't do any of this on purpose. I don't want to seem so morose, because I am still filled with love and hope and happiness. Repeating these phrases can't make them any more genuine. Revealing my authenticity to you doesn't mean you will understand it. I want myself to be more than another fingerprint. More than a girl who is crawling out of her skin. A girl, hung in her room, cooling from within. Something more than this girl, who is perceived as crazy and quirky, with no compassion for anything but the deadness in the world. And this girl, who could change your life, who could open your eyes to something different, but who can't, because she fears that you are afraid to see it. This fucking girl, so surrounded, yet so completely alone, who can't shut her fucking mouth. And this girl, who sees you, and you alone, after being blind all these years, but doesn't have the courage to open her mouth, after being forced to shut it.
I'm this girl, dead on the surface, awaiting resuscitation. The shell of something better, hidden beneath this ugly girl.
This is always where I start to ruin everything. I can't make myself care about these insignificant issues that seem to plague your daily life. Empathy is lost at times. It isn't that I don't care for the individual, it's that I don't see why they turn tiny fractures into shattered bones. I know I'm always bleeding, but I bleed for so many reasons that no one will understand. It becomes mutual in this way. I bleed for the universe, for the whole of evil that slowly eats away at all of humanity. And I can't spare the empathetic courtesies to understand how you can still bleed for something as small as a broken nail, just as you can't see why I don't.
I don't do any of this on purpose. I don't want to seem so morose, because I am still filled with love and hope and happiness. Repeating these phrases can't make them any more genuine. Revealing my authenticity to you doesn't mean you will understand it. I want myself to be more than another fingerprint. More than a girl who is crawling out of her skin. A girl, hung in her room, cooling from within. Something more than this girl, who is perceived as crazy and quirky, with no compassion for anything but the deadness in the world. And this girl, who could change your life, who could open your eyes to something different, but who can't, because she fears that you are afraid to see it. This fucking girl, so surrounded, yet so completely alone, who can't shut her fucking mouth. And this girl, who sees you, and you alone, after being blind all these years, but doesn't have the courage to open her mouth, after being forced to shut it.
I'm this girl, dead on the surface, awaiting resuscitation. The shell of something better, hidden beneath this ugly girl.
Disclaimer
Most of what I write really isn't about anyone in particular. I just have strings of words floating through my head that need to be released, and they end up here for your scrutiny. What is truly interesting though, is that if you read something and think I wrote it for you, then you just learned something about yourself.
From me, an introverted excavator who one day awoke to find herself an innovator.
From me, an introverted excavator who one day awoke to find herself an innovator.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The slow disappearance of meaning and truth; a mass of confusion and regret; lost youth. What have I done? You seem to move uneasy. You won't like to see my eyes, because they will never look the same now. Words can't explain the peace that surrounds me when in communion with minds of the same thoughts. Watching stars without you, I believe my soul may actually cry. I know you've suffered but you shouldn't hide. You can't fool me, and you make it painfully obvious that you cannot fool yourself. So stop.
Existential Ego
Today has been one of those unfortunate types of day where existential depression seeps in, and I feel utterly alone and unsure. I look at everything and wonder what its purpose is. I wonder what my purpose is. If our freedom is nothing more than structure that we ourselves create, and no matter how close I may become to another person there is always a remaining gap, meaning I am nonetheless alone, meaninglessness stems outward and squashes me. If I must die, after constructing my own world only to remain alone, then what point is there for living?
I strain to no avail to grasp some sort of anchor point in all of this. In the end, I only become more painfully aware that my life is finite, and that I must live it alone. There is also frightening freedom regarding how I could choose to live my life. Am I choosing wrong? I am one small organism in an absurd, arbitrary and capricious world where my life has no meaning. Is this all there is for me?
I strain to no avail to grasp some sort of anchor point in all of this. In the end, I only become more painfully aware that my life is finite, and that I must live it alone. There is also frightening freedom regarding how I could choose to live my life. Am I choosing wrong? I am one small organism in an absurd, arbitrary and capricious world where my life has no meaning. Is this all there is for me?
The Alarming Sound of a Still Small Voice by Saosin
I stumbled onto this song, and was like "whoa!", because it pretty much sums up what my mind keeps thinking...with 100% accuracy.
I stumbled onto this song, and was like "whoa!", because it pretty much sums up what my mind keeps thinking...with 100% accuracy.
Smashhh (I feel sorry for anyone who reads this whole thing. Kudos if you do.)
I can't say why, but I've decided to compose a short life history of sorts. I'm just alone and bored on a Friday night, and instead of sitting here, sad and pathetic, I will sit here and be productive...to some extent.
So...I was born (well, technically removed...like a tumor. I was a c-section baby.) on December 15th. My parents were young and broke, and we lived in a crappy apartment in Blacksburg, Va. We ended up moving to Staunton when I was about 3, I think, because my dad was offered a job that would pay a substantially larger amount of money. I was raised to believe in God, accepted Jesus Christ as my savior when I was 4, and went undiagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (which is considered a higher functioning form of autism) until about 2 days ago.
In first grade, my very best friend was a girl named Crystal. We were like soul mates. We both loved animals and Lisa Frank, and spent every recess sitting in the cement tunnel theorizing about life (well, as much as any 6 year old could theorize). She lived with her dad and grandma just down the road from me, and her dad walked her to our townhouse almost every day so we could play. My parents and I ended up moving a few neighborhoods away into an actual house, but I still saw Crystal all the time.
So I got on the bus one morning, gripping my newest Lisa Frank tin tightly in my hands, bursting at the seams awaiting the moment I could show Crystal. She wasn't on the bus that day, and I didn't see her at school. I arrived home, eyes downcast, hoping she would feel better and be in school the next day. As I walked into the living room, I realized both of my parents were sitting in silence, just staring at me. I immediately assumed I was in trouble and tried to remember if I'd done anything horrible in the past few days. My dad asked me to sit down, and my mom started to cry.
They then explained that a kerosene fire had burned Crystal and her family alive, and completely destroyed their home. I never understood death until I saw her tiny coffin lowered into the ground a few days later. I stood in complete bewilderment as I watched them cover her with dirt, knowing I would never see my best friend again.
By the time I reached 5th grade, I didn't have a single friend. I was also failing in class, because I already knew all the material and became bored(they discovered this by testing my knowledge and I was pretty smart for a little kid). I'm not absolutely sure why I didn't have any friends. I do remember one day when a new student came to our class. She was from the south, and had an accent, and for some reason everyone decided to make fun of her. I was the only kid in class who realized how idiotic this was and befriended the new girl. Then two weeks later everyone else decided they liked her, and she stopped being my friend to be friends with everyone else. This is the first moment I lost faith in humanity.
By the time 6th grade began, my relationship with both of my parents had deteriorated. My mom was suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder and depression, and my father was spending all of his time with his mistress and her son. My mom was usually in the den with the door shut, making it clear she wanted to be left alone. With dad gone all the time, I usually sat alone in the living room watching television. On occasion, mom would be on the other end of the spectrum and we would watch television or movies together. But I reached a point that I was deathly afraid of both of my parents, and often considered running away. My first suicidal thoughts began occurring around this time. I was about 12 years old.
My dad began taking me on dates with his mistress and her son, but he lied about their names. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell my mom what we were doing, because she would blame me, and we would both get in trouble. He said that if this happened, neither my mom or him would love me anymore. I kept his secrets out of fear; never out of respect or love, or even with a sense of protection. I began to hate both of them for the things they did, and the only release I could find was in writing, music, and various forms of visual art.
One not so special day, I awoke to the sounds of my grandparents' voices downstairs. Excited, I jumped out of bed and made my way to the living room. Usually when I saw my grandparents it was nothing but hugs and kisses and unnecessary showerings of gifts. This day, everyone seemed angry, and no one even noticed I was there. I sat in the corner, watching everyone argue. As the events of the day unfolded, I discovered that my dad had called all my grandparents and told them that my mom had gone completely insane. He said she was promiscuous, engaging in sexual acts with a large number of men, and that she had forced me to participate. This was all completely untrue.
Just a few months before this day, my mom had seen a doctor and had finally been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. After taking medication for the last 15 weeks, she had become the mom she always was when she'd been on the good side of her disorder. Even as young as I was, I understood that she had a chemical imbalance, and that it was being medically treated. I could then see the reason behind her actions and learn to forgive them.
Back to that day....My dad was standing before my family, spreading a horrendous pack of lies with no hint of remorse in his voice. My mom of course became outraged and attempted to defend herself before the jury. The yelling and pushing and throwing scared the shit out of me. I didn't understand this behavior. I ran, practically hyperventilating, into the bathroom and shut the door. I sat on the closed toilet, rocking back and forth, tears streaming freely down my face. I heard a few more shouts, a door slamming, and then silence. A few moments later, my dad came into the bathroom with his mother. They both knelt in front of me on the floor, took my hands, and began to pray. That was the moment I stopped believing in God.
In the trunk of my dad's car, my mom found journals full of prose my dad had written. He wrote in great detail about how he despised my mother for the way she looked and the things she said and did. He also wrote about how amazing his mistress was, and how lost in love he was with her. He detailed his plan of how to rid his life of my mom by having her committed to a psychiatric hospital in North Carolina (where her parents lived), and how he and I would live with his mistress and her son and become one big happy family.
Now, I look exactly like my mother. I have a few minuscule physical traits of my father's, but I could be my mother's twin. After hearing the explanation of how he perceived her physical traits, about how hideous she was to him, I suddenly felt ill. This was the moment I started believing I was ugly. And it doesn't make much sense, because I've always seen how beautiful my mother is. And if I really do look like her, I should be beautiful as well. But after hearing those words from my own father, I knew I was hideous. This is a fact I still believe, wholeheartedly.
At the end of the day, my parents had agreed to work it out. They were going to go to marriage counseling and try to salvage what was left of their relationship. My mother secretly had no intention of doing this. Her plan was to save as much money as possible without my dad knowing so that her and I could get the hell out of there. Little did she know, my dad had an even more sinister plan under his belt.
Exactly one month later, on my parents' 13th wedding anniversary, my dad woke me early in the morning. He claimed to have errands to run, and that he wanted to get something special for mom for their anniversary. Of course I went with him. We ended up driving across town to a rural neighborhood across from my future high school. We pulled into a driveway, and I realized I had no clue where we were. When I questioned my dad he said, verbatim, "I'm leaving your mother. This is our new home."
I sat in confusion, unsure of what the proper response would be. My first instinct was to run, so that's exactly what I did. I jumped from the car and began running up the street. Of course my legs didn't carry me fast enough, and my dad grabbed me and dragged me unwillingly into 'our new home'. Once inside I was greeted by his parents, brother, sister-in-law, and aunt. I couldn't think of a single thing to say or do, so I began unpacking dishes and placing them on shelves while I tried to devise an escape plan in my head. Just as I saw an opening to make a run for it, my grandmother grabbed me by the arms and started dragging me to her car. I struggled; kicking, screaming, crying out for anyone to fucking help me. She shoved me into the backseat, and my dad stood guard at the car doors while she climbed in the front seat and started the car. I tried to escape at a stop light, but the child proof locks were on, and my attempts to roll down the windows and even break the glass were in vain. I had been kidnapped.
Two hours later, I'm at my dad's parents' house in the middle of nowhere. Once inside, my grandmother let me go to the bathroom, and then locked me in the back room that had no windows. I sat in the corner under a desk, knees pulled up, rocking back and forth like a cornered animal. It is one of the most pathetic moments of my life. According to the clock in that room, I sat in that corner rocking for 4 hours until my dad showed up. He came into the room and led me out to the phone. Mom was on the line, but my grandmother was in the other room listening in on the call. We didn't say much, but she did tell me I was coming home the next day.
The next day was the fourth of July. I have always had an intense fondness for fireworks, so the fourth of July was something I looked forward to quite eagerly. My dad didn't take me home until late that night on purpose, just to be inconsiderate to my mom. I missed the fireworks.
After all of these events, my mom was awarded custody by the court, and for months afterward my dad only had supervised visits. My grandmother could have been arrested for kidnapping, but my mom decided to be a better person, and agreed not to press charges as long as I was returned safely to her the following day.
About 6 months later, my mom and I lost our house because the mortgage payments were far too much for her to make, and my father had yet to make child support or alimony payments. That house was filled with nothing but bad memories anyways, and we moved into an apartment across town. I barely saw my dad. Maybe once a month I would go stay a night at his house. He moved frequently, and I later found out that every time he moved, it was because his mistress was moving, and he wanted to be closer to her. He hid them from me, assuming I was too stupid to know that they were a larger part of his life than I was.
I came to understand that the only reason my dad ever had me over to his house was because he was still paying child support. I am almost certain that if he hadn't had that last legal obligation to me, I would have never seen him again. Plus, he didn't want God to smite him.
Eventually my dad moved in with his mistress, who is now my stepmother. And she had not just a son, but a daughter as well. On the day of their wedding, both of her children were included in the ceremony. I sat utterly alone in the back of the church. Not even a member of my own family sat with me. I was dressed all in black, mourning the loss of my father. I knew that after he married her, the last shred of hope for him would be completely shattered. I cried on my lonely pew in the back of the church, unable to understand how everything had reached that point. My uncle and grandfather came to me after the service, took my hands, and prayed with me. I still didn't believe in God.
After their marriage, I rarely saw any of them, and it suited me fine in a way. My mom had since married my step-dad, who has always treated me like his own daughter without even being asked to do so. I was content being with my mom and step-dad, because with them I could feel safe and appreciated at times, and I knew I wasn't simply being cast aside.
By this point, my mom's father had died, and left us all destroyed by his loss. My mom's parents were always so good to me that losing him was like losing a piece of my soul. A year after he passed, my grandmother (who I always called granny), became extremely ill, almost dying herself. After she recovered, she moved up to Virginia to live with my mom and step-dad and I, and we moved from our apartment into a house that was big enough for all of us.
*As a side note...when my granny was sick and in the hospital, we were already in North Carolina for Christmas. I had taken my cat, Mischief, with me because he'd been sick and needed medicine every day. We had to board Mischief in the vet in order to drive to Wilmington when they transported my grandmother. When I dropped him off, he put his paw on my cheek and kissed my nose. The next morning, the phone in our hotel room rang. I knew one of them was dead, and I hated myself for being glad that my cat had died the previous night and not my granny. Remembering it now makes me feel so ashamed of myself, I don't even have words.
By this time, I was about to be a junior in high school, and I had just finished moving into a new house with mom, granny, and my step-dad. By this point, I was one of those kids the other parents were afraid to see their children bring over for dinner. I was already tattooed and pierced, I had black and red hair, and wore clothes that not many people would consider stylish. I'm sure on some level I was simply expressing my inward turmoil and confusion in an outward manner. On the inside, I was extremely intelligent. I could sit in class and absorb an entire text book full of information in a matter of days. Then the rest of the semester, I was bored and unfocused, my thoughts wandering to far off places. I also felt that I wasn't supposed to show people that I knew anything. Everyone expected me to be an idiot, and no one liked the smart kids. I knew that I was smarter than most of the smart kids, but I shrank down into myself and shut my mouth.
I was fortunate enough to be accepted into SVGS (Shenandoah Valley Governor's School). I was accepted into both Math and Science and Arts and Humanities, but chose to go into the Arts and Humanities with a discipline in visual art. Somewhere in my twisted mind I thought that I would be among more like-minded individuals in those surroundings. I was totally wrong. I have always seen art as something that should not be censored. It is the utmost expression of life and understanding, of perspective, emotion, and humanity itself. Eighty percent of what I tried to create was censored and trashed before I could even finish it. I wasn't even trying to be purposefully inappropriate or shocking. I was simply taking what was inside my head and projecting it into visual display. That was when I started to question my sanity. If everything I thought was something that needed to be hidden, then maybe I needed to be hidden. And from that point forward, I was hiding.
For the next two years, I traveled quite a lot. I went to New York City three times, Atlanta, GA, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, France, and more locally to D.C. and such for art showings. I remained hidden in my shell, showing not one soul what truly inhabited me. My father continued to ignore me as my stepmother constantly pushed her way into my life, only to tell me what a heathen I was and to continuously try to save my eternally damned soul. I had plenty of friends, but didn't completely connect with any of them. My granny remained sick off and on. My daily schedule for my last two years of high school went like this:
Get up at 4:30am to get ready for school. Make granny breakfast and be to SVGS by 6:45am. Leave SVGS at 11am and drive home. Make sure granny went to the bathroom, had food, etc., and get back to regular high school for afternoon classes by 11:45am. Leave school at 2:45, go back home, make granny lunch, get ready for work. Be at work by 4pm, get off at 11pm. Go home and do humanities essays and concentration portfolio work until 1am. Sleep until 4:30am. Do it all again.
My step-dad worked out of town Sunday through Thursday every week, and mom had a full time job. Mom was usually at work in the mornings and afternoons, and I had to be up early for school anyways, so I just took care of it. I didn't mind caring for her, because I loved her dearly. It did take a toll on my health, and I was sick pretty much 24/7. But illness became second nature, and I could still function at work and school, so I didn't worry about it.
I was accepted into several colleges; SVA and NYAA in New York, Rhode Island School of Design, Parsons, and VCU. In the end, I chose VCU because it was only two hours away from home. My granny had deteriorated to the point that I felt guilty for going away for college in the first place, and didn't want to be too far away. So VCU it was.
I had been at VCU for one and a half semesters. I went to Memphis, TN to see AFI in concert, and when I got back my granny had been admitted into the hospital. She was not doing well, but she looked me in the eye and told me to go back to school. I couldn't ignore her wishes, and went back to school. A week later, mom called telling me she'd died. I still remember sitting in the dormitory hallway and hearing the words. I just froze, and it felt like my soul split again, another piece of me dying with her. I went home and endured the week of funerary plans, because my mom was completely destroyed, and I knew I needed to handle a lot of the strain. After we buried her in NC next to grandpa, I went back to school.
Shortly after granny died, mom had me see a doctor because my behavior was even more abnormal than usual. I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and associated agoraphobia. I was put on medication, and sent back to school again. My mental state became so completely unstable that I decided to just drop out of college and go home. Her death really killed something inside me. She was like a second mother to me, and one of the few people who ever fully understood me. Losing her was like losing a part of myself, and it took me a long time to heal. I still miss her and my grandpa greatly, and I know I always will.
After I went home, I ended up having to stay at my dad's house. My mom and step-dad were moving to West Virginia, and I knew I couldn't go with them. I got a good paying job and began saving money, because I knew being in my dad's house was causing me a slow and painful death. I remember when I was first bringing some of my things into the house, my step-mom offered to carry a couple boxes. Most of what I owned was books, and she happened to see a book entitled "The Goth Bible". This book is basically a dissection of Gothic culture as a whole, covering everything from scattered beliefs and misconceptions to clothing styles and detailed history. It's a very interesting read. She approached me later that night as I was outside smoking a cigarette. She sat beside me, and asked what the book was about. She completely ignored my response, explaining that is was simply an explanation of a culture, and moved onto the subject of religion. Keep in mind my granny had died no more than a month earlier. She said, "Well let me just ask you this: If you don't believe in God, then where do you think your grandmother went when she died?" I was so taken aback by her audacity that I couldn't say much. I know I sputtered something about it being none of her business, and then I went back inside the house.
I stayed there for two or three months, and my days became more troubled and miserable. Every Sunday I was told I was going to Hell because I chose not to attend church with the rest of the family. I was told I was a nuissance, that I just cost everyone money. I tried to explain that the point of me staying there was to save my money so I could get my own place, but of course no one heard me when I spoke. This usually happens to me when I speak.
So I found a house and some friends and moved to Harrisonburg, since that's where my job had led me anyways. Things seemed to improve slightly. I still hadn't found anyone I could connect with on a deeper level than my copied gestures and behavior. I was at the point that I had adapted to my surroundings so well that I could just mask everything inside and let it slowly boil into madness for the sake of fitting in with someone. I was miserable underneath, but forcing candide gestures on the surface. I met a lot of new people, most of which I choose not to know now.
Then I met 'the cult'. I will refer to them as the cult, because it's easier than spreading their names on plasma. At first I felt accepted. I had been able to disclose certain information about myself, such as certain beliefs and abilities that I possessed and not been told I was certifiable. The sense of belonging I felt overshadowed many warning signs I see now, but didn't then. They wanted nothing more than to exploit my abilities for their own gain. I was slowly starting to see this, and began to sink into myself again.
This is where my story becomes completely unbelievable and pathetic.....
My boyfriend at the time (we'll call him X), was one of those great loves. He was a person whom I met and could see that he knew me for who I really was. He could see what I couldn't show others, and he relished it. I saw many things in him I found to be admirable, and so our relationship spawned into strange fascination. He asked me to marry him three times during our time together, and each time I said no.
Now this man seemed amazing to me. I thought that the myths about 'the one' may not be myth at all. Our time together was always some sort of magical affair. But he was part of the cult, and so chaos ensued when I brought up the idea of stepping away from other members of that group. I have never and will never be the kind of person to tell another who they should spend their time with. I didn't expect either of us to completely ignore these people, but I thought it might be a good idea to create a small distance between us, at least for a short while.
Things started to get weird between us at this point. Not only because I didn't feel comfortable with some of the things the cult had going on, but also because I had turned down the first marriage proposal, and I hadn't given into having sex with him yet. I'm not a prude, I just think sex should come at a certain point. Plus, there is a difference between sex and making love, and I wasn't sure he agreed with me on that point. Anyways...
Weird things started happening. I would have moments when I would suddenly become aware and not remember anything from the past several hours of my life. I'm not really able to become drunk, and I have never taken drugs, other than mary jane. So for this to be happening to me was terrifying. I thought I was really starting to go over the deep end. Things between me and X seemed better though, and we hadn't heard much from the cult. I expressed concern to X about my weird periods of amnesia, and he told me not to worry about it. I was probably getting lost in thought like I always did. Stupidly, I ignored these warnings.
Basically, without disclosing too much horrid detail, it reached the point that I was being drugged unknowingly. I would be aware at times but unable to force myself to move or even speak. I was like a zombie under control of some otherwordly force, unable to call out for help. I was trapped inside myself, watching unspeakable things happen all around me. I was taken advantage of in more ways than one, and have physical and emotional scars to prove it. That is all I will say.
Who knows. Maybe after shooting down the third proposal he decided I was a lost cause, and he would use me for gain in a different arena of his life. Maybe he was just a sadistic prick, and I was a fool for ever believing he loved me. The important part is that I escaped with my life, and left the entire cult behind to await their own inevitable demise.
Two years of my life wasted, I was ruined. I felt my heart implode, and my lungs shrivel and die. My brain shut off completely. I had fled to West Virginia, and I just remember sitting on a mattress on the floor, willing my body to die so that I wouldn't feel the pain any longer. I didn't speak, shower, or eat. I just sat, hoping to slowly decay and eventually expire.
I didn't physically die. I died emotionally. I became a shell that went through my daily routine to satisfy the people around me. I got a job and an apartment, I paid my bills and cleaned up after myself. I lost all faith for a short while. The experience forced me to look at everything I had known through a microscope. I would look in the mirror and break myself apart a piece at a time, wondering what this conspiracy against me was. I knew then that I was paying for something I'd done. Jesus Christ, I must have done something of unspeakable evil.
I decided I would never again feel such hopelessness. I would no longer wish for anything, or want anything I didn't already have. I wouldn't attempt to connect with humanity any longer. I knew then that I was nothing. Just wasted energy on the wrong plane of existence. I had never been so alone in my life. I stayed in isolation for a year and a half.
Eventually I decided that I needed to do something productive with my time. I knew I needed to go back to school, and I couldn't do that in WV. So I decided to go back to VA. I would face my paralyzing fears and return to the place that harbored every evil event that had taken place in my life. I ended up staying at my dad's house, with the intention of saving money to move out. Every time I thought things were looking up, something would happen to make my head fall again.
One fateful night, my stepmom decided to unleash on me. She didn't say much; only that I was a thieving bitch liar who ruined her and my father's life just by existing. I'm not sure why she thought I was a liar. Maybe she knew I lied every time I smiled at her. Calling me a theif was partly justifiable, because I went through a short period where I had to stoop so low as to steal shampoo and other neccessities because I had no money, and knew I had no one to ask. At any rate, the things she said to me that night were pure hate and contempt. My father sat right there as she said it. I asked him if he had anything to say to me, and all he said was, "I don't know what to say right now."
I felt what was left of my heart being ripped from my chest. He made it clear at that moment that he had indeed chosen his new family over his only biological child. I gathered my things and left in the dead of night. I stayed with a cousin for a while, whose husband abused not only drugs, but everyone in the house as well (including me). And after everything escalated in a drug induced stupor one night, I was forced to move on. I am now right back in fucking WV.
I feel so lost that I just keep turning in circles. Nothing ever remains. I'm in another place of loss and confusion, and desperately need to escape. I can't keep doing this. I need something constant, something at least partially stable in my life. Of course stable to me isn't what most would consider stable.
I know I have to get out of here. I know I need someone to understand. I know just those two wishes are a lot to ask for. I also know that I don't deserve it.
This may seem like a long love letter to misery, and maybe that's exactly what it is. I'm only stating the facts. This is what's happened. Maybe I've seen enough ugliness that now I can see something beautiful again. I just need to see the moon rise and cast its preternatural glow to know that I'll be okay. But for once, I think I actually need another human being to tell me everything will be okay and really mean it.
So...I was born (well, technically removed...like a tumor. I was a c-section baby.) on December 15th. My parents were young and broke, and we lived in a crappy apartment in Blacksburg, Va. We ended up moving to Staunton when I was about 3, I think, because my dad was offered a job that would pay a substantially larger amount of money. I was raised to believe in God, accepted Jesus Christ as my savior when I was 4, and went undiagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (which is considered a higher functioning form of autism) until about 2 days ago.
In first grade, my very best friend was a girl named Crystal. We were like soul mates. We both loved animals and Lisa Frank, and spent every recess sitting in the cement tunnel theorizing about life (well, as much as any 6 year old could theorize). She lived with her dad and grandma just down the road from me, and her dad walked her to our townhouse almost every day so we could play. My parents and I ended up moving a few neighborhoods away into an actual house, but I still saw Crystal all the time.
So I got on the bus one morning, gripping my newest Lisa Frank tin tightly in my hands, bursting at the seams awaiting the moment I could show Crystal. She wasn't on the bus that day, and I didn't see her at school. I arrived home, eyes downcast, hoping she would feel better and be in school the next day. As I walked into the living room, I realized both of my parents were sitting in silence, just staring at me. I immediately assumed I was in trouble and tried to remember if I'd done anything horrible in the past few days. My dad asked me to sit down, and my mom started to cry.
They then explained that a kerosene fire had burned Crystal and her family alive, and completely destroyed their home. I never understood death until I saw her tiny coffin lowered into the ground a few days later. I stood in complete bewilderment as I watched them cover her with dirt, knowing I would never see my best friend again.
By the time I reached 5th grade, I didn't have a single friend. I was also failing in class, because I already knew all the material and became bored(they discovered this by testing my knowledge and I was pretty smart for a little kid). I'm not absolutely sure why I didn't have any friends. I do remember one day when a new student came to our class. She was from the south, and had an accent, and for some reason everyone decided to make fun of her. I was the only kid in class who realized how idiotic this was and befriended the new girl. Then two weeks later everyone else decided they liked her, and she stopped being my friend to be friends with everyone else. This is the first moment I lost faith in humanity.
By the time 6th grade began, my relationship with both of my parents had deteriorated. My mom was suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder and depression, and my father was spending all of his time with his mistress and her son. My mom was usually in the den with the door shut, making it clear she wanted to be left alone. With dad gone all the time, I usually sat alone in the living room watching television. On occasion, mom would be on the other end of the spectrum and we would watch television or movies together. But I reached a point that I was deathly afraid of both of my parents, and often considered running away. My first suicidal thoughts began occurring around this time. I was about 12 years old.
My dad began taking me on dates with his mistress and her son, but he lied about their names. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell my mom what we were doing, because she would blame me, and we would both get in trouble. He said that if this happened, neither my mom or him would love me anymore. I kept his secrets out of fear; never out of respect or love, or even with a sense of protection. I began to hate both of them for the things they did, and the only release I could find was in writing, music, and various forms of visual art.
One not so special day, I awoke to the sounds of my grandparents' voices downstairs. Excited, I jumped out of bed and made my way to the living room. Usually when I saw my grandparents it was nothing but hugs and kisses and unnecessary showerings of gifts. This day, everyone seemed angry, and no one even noticed I was there. I sat in the corner, watching everyone argue. As the events of the day unfolded, I discovered that my dad had called all my grandparents and told them that my mom had gone completely insane. He said she was promiscuous, engaging in sexual acts with a large number of men, and that she had forced me to participate. This was all completely untrue.
Just a few months before this day, my mom had seen a doctor and had finally been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. After taking medication for the last 15 weeks, she had become the mom she always was when she'd been on the good side of her disorder. Even as young as I was, I understood that she had a chemical imbalance, and that it was being medically treated. I could then see the reason behind her actions and learn to forgive them.
Back to that day....My dad was standing before my family, spreading a horrendous pack of lies with no hint of remorse in his voice. My mom of course became outraged and attempted to defend herself before the jury. The yelling and pushing and throwing scared the shit out of me. I didn't understand this behavior. I ran, practically hyperventilating, into the bathroom and shut the door. I sat on the closed toilet, rocking back and forth, tears streaming freely down my face. I heard a few more shouts, a door slamming, and then silence. A few moments later, my dad came into the bathroom with his mother. They both knelt in front of me on the floor, took my hands, and began to pray. That was the moment I stopped believing in God.
In the trunk of my dad's car, my mom found journals full of prose my dad had written. He wrote in great detail about how he despised my mother for the way she looked and the things she said and did. He also wrote about how amazing his mistress was, and how lost in love he was with her. He detailed his plan of how to rid his life of my mom by having her committed to a psychiatric hospital in North Carolina (where her parents lived), and how he and I would live with his mistress and her son and become one big happy family.
Now, I look exactly like my mother. I have a few minuscule physical traits of my father's, but I could be my mother's twin. After hearing the explanation of how he perceived her physical traits, about how hideous she was to him, I suddenly felt ill. This was the moment I started believing I was ugly. And it doesn't make much sense, because I've always seen how beautiful my mother is. And if I really do look like her, I should be beautiful as well. But after hearing those words from my own father, I knew I was hideous. This is a fact I still believe, wholeheartedly.
At the end of the day, my parents had agreed to work it out. They were going to go to marriage counseling and try to salvage what was left of their relationship. My mother secretly had no intention of doing this. Her plan was to save as much money as possible without my dad knowing so that her and I could get the hell out of there. Little did she know, my dad had an even more sinister plan under his belt.
Exactly one month later, on my parents' 13th wedding anniversary, my dad woke me early in the morning. He claimed to have errands to run, and that he wanted to get something special for mom for their anniversary. Of course I went with him. We ended up driving across town to a rural neighborhood across from my future high school. We pulled into a driveway, and I realized I had no clue where we were. When I questioned my dad he said, verbatim, "I'm leaving your mother. This is our new home."
I sat in confusion, unsure of what the proper response would be. My first instinct was to run, so that's exactly what I did. I jumped from the car and began running up the street. Of course my legs didn't carry me fast enough, and my dad grabbed me and dragged me unwillingly into 'our new home'. Once inside I was greeted by his parents, brother, sister-in-law, and aunt. I couldn't think of a single thing to say or do, so I began unpacking dishes and placing them on shelves while I tried to devise an escape plan in my head. Just as I saw an opening to make a run for it, my grandmother grabbed me by the arms and started dragging me to her car. I struggled; kicking, screaming, crying out for anyone to fucking help me. She shoved me into the backseat, and my dad stood guard at the car doors while she climbed in the front seat and started the car. I tried to escape at a stop light, but the child proof locks were on, and my attempts to roll down the windows and even break the glass were in vain. I had been kidnapped.
Two hours later, I'm at my dad's parents' house in the middle of nowhere. Once inside, my grandmother let me go to the bathroom, and then locked me in the back room that had no windows. I sat in the corner under a desk, knees pulled up, rocking back and forth like a cornered animal. It is one of the most pathetic moments of my life. According to the clock in that room, I sat in that corner rocking for 4 hours until my dad showed up. He came into the room and led me out to the phone. Mom was on the line, but my grandmother was in the other room listening in on the call. We didn't say much, but she did tell me I was coming home the next day.
The next day was the fourth of July. I have always had an intense fondness for fireworks, so the fourth of July was something I looked forward to quite eagerly. My dad didn't take me home until late that night on purpose, just to be inconsiderate to my mom. I missed the fireworks.
After all of these events, my mom was awarded custody by the court, and for months afterward my dad only had supervised visits. My grandmother could have been arrested for kidnapping, but my mom decided to be a better person, and agreed not to press charges as long as I was returned safely to her the following day.
About 6 months later, my mom and I lost our house because the mortgage payments were far too much for her to make, and my father had yet to make child support or alimony payments. That house was filled with nothing but bad memories anyways, and we moved into an apartment across town. I barely saw my dad. Maybe once a month I would go stay a night at his house. He moved frequently, and I later found out that every time he moved, it was because his mistress was moving, and he wanted to be closer to her. He hid them from me, assuming I was too stupid to know that they were a larger part of his life than I was.
I came to understand that the only reason my dad ever had me over to his house was because he was still paying child support. I am almost certain that if he hadn't had that last legal obligation to me, I would have never seen him again. Plus, he didn't want God to smite him.
Eventually my dad moved in with his mistress, who is now my stepmother. And she had not just a son, but a daughter as well. On the day of their wedding, both of her children were included in the ceremony. I sat utterly alone in the back of the church. Not even a member of my own family sat with me. I was dressed all in black, mourning the loss of my father. I knew that after he married her, the last shred of hope for him would be completely shattered. I cried on my lonely pew in the back of the church, unable to understand how everything had reached that point. My uncle and grandfather came to me after the service, took my hands, and prayed with me. I still didn't believe in God.
After their marriage, I rarely saw any of them, and it suited me fine in a way. My mom had since married my step-dad, who has always treated me like his own daughter without even being asked to do so. I was content being with my mom and step-dad, because with them I could feel safe and appreciated at times, and I knew I wasn't simply being cast aside.
By this point, my mom's father had died, and left us all destroyed by his loss. My mom's parents were always so good to me that losing him was like losing a piece of my soul. A year after he passed, my grandmother (who I always called granny), became extremely ill, almost dying herself. After she recovered, she moved up to Virginia to live with my mom and step-dad and I, and we moved from our apartment into a house that was big enough for all of us.
*As a side note...when my granny was sick and in the hospital, we were already in North Carolina for Christmas. I had taken my cat, Mischief, with me because he'd been sick and needed medicine every day. We had to board Mischief in the vet in order to drive to Wilmington when they transported my grandmother. When I dropped him off, he put his paw on my cheek and kissed my nose. The next morning, the phone in our hotel room rang. I knew one of them was dead, and I hated myself for being glad that my cat had died the previous night and not my granny. Remembering it now makes me feel so ashamed of myself, I don't even have words.
By this time, I was about to be a junior in high school, and I had just finished moving into a new house with mom, granny, and my step-dad. By this point, I was one of those kids the other parents were afraid to see their children bring over for dinner. I was already tattooed and pierced, I had black and red hair, and wore clothes that not many people would consider stylish. I'm sure on some level I was simply expressing my inward turmoil and confusion in an outward manner. On the inside, I was extremely intelligent. I could sit in class and absorb an entire text book full of information in a matter of days. Then the rest of the semester, I was bored and unfocused, my thoughts wandering to far off places. I also felt that I wasn't supposed to show people that I knew anything. Everyone expected me to be an idiot, and no one liked the smart kids. I knew that I was smarter than most of the smart kids, but I shrank down into myself and shut my mouth.
I was fortunate enough to be accepted into SVGS (Shenandoah Valley Governor's School). I was accepted into both Math and Science and Arts and Humanities, but chose to go into the Arts and Humanities with a discipline in visual art. Somewhere in my twisted mind I thought that I would be among more like-minded individuals in those surroundings. I was totally wrong. I have always seen art as something that should not be censored. It is the utmost expression of life and understanding, of perspective, emotion, and humanity itself. Eighty percent of what I tried to create was censored and trashed before I could even finish it. I wasn't even trying to be purposefully inappropriate or shocking. I was simply taking what was inside my head and projecting it into visual display. That was when I started to question my sanity. If everything I thought was something that needed to be hidden, then maybe I needed to be hidden. And from that point forward, I was hiding.
For the next two years, I traveled quite a lot. I went to New York City three times, Atlanta, GA, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, France, and more locally to D.C. and such for art showings. I remained hidden in my shell, showing not one soul what truly inhabited me. My father continued to ignore me as my stepmother constantly pushed her way into my life, only to tell me what a heathen I was and to continuously try to save my eternally damned soul. I had plenty of friends, but didn't completely connect with any of them. My granny remained sick off and on. My daily schedule for my last two years of high school went like this:
Get up at 4:30am to get ready for school. Make granny breakfast and be to SVGS by 6:45am. Leave SVGS at 11am and drive home. Make sure granny went to the bathroom, had food, etc., and get back to regular high school for afternoon classes by 11:45am. Leave school at 2:45, go back home, make granny lunch, get ready for work. Be at work by 4pm, get off at 11pm. Go home and do humanities essays and concentration portfolio work until 1am. Sleep until 4:30am. Do it all again.
My step-dad worked out of town Sunday through Thursday every week, and mom had a full time job. Mom was usually at work in the mornings and afternoons, and I had to be up early for school anyways, so I just took care of it. I didn't mind caring for her, because I loved her dearly. It did take a toll on my health, and I was sick pretty much 24/7. But illness became second nature, and I could still function at work and school, so I didn't worry about it.
I was accepted into several colleges; SVA and NYAA in New York, Rhode Island School of Design, Parsons, and VCU. In the end, I chose VCU because it was only two hours away from home. My granny had deteriorated to the point that I felt guilty for going away for college in the first place, and didn't want to be too far away. So VCU it was.
I had been at VCU for one and a half semesters. I went to Memphis, TN to see AFI in concert, and when I got back my granny had been admitted into the hospital. She was not doing well, but she looked me in the eye and told me to go back to school. I couldn't ignore her wishes, and went back to school. A week later, mom called telling me she'd died. I still remember sitting in the dormitory hallway and hearing the words. I just froze, and it felt like my soul split again, another piece of me dying with her. I went home and endured the week of funerary plans, because my mom was completely destroyed, and I knew I needed to handle a lot of the strain. After we buried her in NC next to grandpa, I went back to school.
Shortly after granny died, mom had me see a doctor because my behavior was even more abnormal than usual. I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and associated agoraphobia. I was put on medication, and sent back to school again. My mental state became so completely unstable that I decided to just drop out of college and go home. Her death really killed something inside me. She was like a second mother to me, and one of the few people who ever fully understood me. Losing her was like losing a part of myself, and it took me a long time to heal. I still miss her and my grandpa greatly, and I know I always will.
After I went home, I ended up having to stay at my dad's house. My mom and step-dad were moving to West Virginia, and I knew I couldn't go with them. I got a good paying job and began saving money, because I knew being in my dad's house was causing me a slow and painful death. I remember when I was first bringing some of my things into the house, my step-mom offered to carry a couple boxes. Most of what I owned was books, and she happened to see a book entitled "The Goth Bible". This book is basically a dissection of Gothic culture as a whole, covering everything from scattered beliefs and misconceptions to clothing styles and detailed history. It's a very interesting read. She approached me later that night as I was outside smoking a cigarette. She sat beside me, and asked what the book was about. She completely ignored my response, explaining that is was simply an explanation of a culture, and moved onto the subject of religion. Keep in mind my granny had died no more than a month earlier. She said, "Well let me just ask you this: If you don't believe in God, then where do you think your grandmother went when she died?" I was so taken aback by her audacity that I couldn't say much. I know I sputtered something about it being none of her business, and then I went back inside the house.
I stayed there for two or three months, and my days became more troubled and miserable. Every Sunday I was told I was going to Hell because I chose not to attend church with the rest of the family. I was told I was a nuissance, that I just cost everyone money. I tried to explain that the point of me staying there was to save my money so I could get my own place, but of course no one heard me when I spoke. This usually happens to me when I speak.
So I found a house and some friends and moved to Harrisonburg, since that's where my job had led me anyways. Things seemed to improve slightly. I still hadn't found anyone I could connect with on a deeper level than my copied gestures and behavior. I was at the point that I had adapted to my surroundings so well that I could just mask everything inside and let it slowly boil into madness for the sake of fitting in with someone. I was miserable underneath, but forcing candide gestures on the surface. I met a lot of new people, most of which I choose not to know now.
Then I met 'the cult'. I will refer to them as the cult, because it's easier than spreading their names on plasma. At first I felt accepted. I had been able to disclose certain information about myself, such as certain beliefs and abilities that I possessed and not been told I was certifiable. The sense of belonging I felt overshadowed many warning signs I see now, but didn't then. They wanted nothing more than to exploit my abilities for their own gain. I was slowly starting to see this, and began to sink into myself again.
This is where my story becomes completely unbelievable and pathetic.....
My boyfriend at the time (we'll call him X), was one of those great loves. He was a person whom I met and could see that he knew me for who I really was. He could see what I couldn't show others, and he relished it. I saw many things in him I found to be admirable, and so our relationship spawned into strange fascination. He asked me to marry him three times during our time together, and each time I said no.
Now this man seemed amazing to me. I thought that the myths about 'the one' may not be myth at all. Our time together was always some sort of magical affair. But he was part of the cult, and so chaos ensued when I brought up the idea of stepping away from other members of that group. I have never and will never be the kind of person to tell another who they should spend their time with. I didn't expect either of us to completely ignore these people, but I thought it might be a good idea to create a small distance between us, at least for a short while.
Things started to get weird between us at this point. Not only because I didn't feel comfortable with some of the things the cult had going on, but also because I had turned down the first marriage proposal, and I hadn't given into having sex with him yet. I'm not a prude, I just think sex should come at a certain point. Plus, there is a difference between sex and making love, and I wasn't sure he agreed with me on that point. Anyways...
Weird things started happening. I would have moments when I would suddenly become aware and not remember anything from the past several hours of my life. I'm not really able to become drunk, and I have never taken drugs, other than mary jane. So for this to be happening to me was terrifying. I thought I was really starting to go over the deep end. Things between me and X seemed better though, and we hadn't heard much from the cult. I expressed concern to X about my weird periods of amnesia, and he told me not to worry about it. I was probably getting lost in thought like I always did. Stupidly, I ignored these warnings.
Basically, without disclosing too much horrid detail, it reached the point that I was being drugged unknowingly. I would be aware at times but unable to force myself to move or even speak. I was like a zombie under control of some otherwordly force, unable to call out for help. I was trapped inside myself, watching unspeakable things happen all around me. I was taken advantage of in more ways than one, and have physical and emotional scars to prove it. That is all I will say.
Who knows. Maybe after shooting down the third proposal he decided I was a lost cause, and he would use me for gain in a different arena of his life. Maybe he was just a sadistic prick, and I was a fool for ever believing he loved me. The important part is that I escaped with my life, and left the entire cult behind to await their own inevitable demise.
Two years of my life wasted, I was ruined. I felt my heart implode, and my lungs shrivel and die. My brain shut off completely. I had fled to West Virginia, and I just remember sitting on a mattress on the floor, willing my body to die so that I wouldn't feel the pain any longer. I didn't speak, shower, or eat. I just sat, hoping to slowly decay and eventually expire.
I didn't physically die. I died emotionally. I became a shell that went through my daily routine to satisfy the people around me. I got a job and an apartment, I paid my bills and cleaned up after myself. I lost all faith for a short while. The experience forced me to look at everything I had known through a microscope. I would look in the mirror and break myself apart a piece at a time, wondering what this conspiracy against me was. I knew then that I was paying for something I'd done. Jesus Christ, I must have done something of unspeakable evil.
I decided I would never again feel such hopelessness. I would no longer wish for anything, or want anything I didn't already have. I wouldn't attempt to connect with humanity any longer. I knew then that I was nothing. Just wasted energy on the wrong plane of existence. I had never been so alone in my life. I stayed in isolation for a year and a half.
Eventually I decided that I needed to do something productive with my time. I knew I needed to go back to school, and I couldn't do that in WV. So I decided to go back to VA. I would face my paralyzing fears and return to the place that harbored every evil event that had taken place in my life. I ended up staying at my dad's house, with the intention of saving money to move out. Every time I thought things were looking up, something would happen to make my head fall again.
One fateful night, my stepmom decided to unleash on me. She didn't say much; only that I was a thieving bitch liar who ruined her and my father's life just by existing. I'm not sure why she thought I was a liar. Maybe she knew I lied every time I smiled at her. Calling me a theif was partly justifiable, because I went through a short period where I had to stoop so low as to steal shampoo and other neccessities because I had no money, and knew I had no one to ask. At any rate, the things she said to me that night were pure hate and contempt. My father sat right there as she said it. I asked him if he had anything to say to me, and all he said was, "I don't know what to say right now."
I felt what was left of my heart being ripped from my chest. He made it clear at that moment that he had indeed chosen his new family over his only biological child. I gathered my things and left in the dead of night. I stayed with a cousin for a while, whose husband abused not only drugs, but everyone in the house as well (including me). And after everything escalated in a drug induced stupor one night, I was forced to move on. I am now right back in fucking WV.
I feel so lost that I just keep turning in circles. Nothing ever remains. I'm in another place of loss and confusion, and desperately need to escape. I can't keep doing this. I need something constant, something at least partially stable in my life. Of course stable to me isn't what most would consider stable.
I know I have to get out of here. I know I need someone to understand. I know just those two wishes are a lot to ask for. I also know that I don't deserve it.
This may seem like a long love letter to misery, and maybe that's exactly what it is. I'm only stating the facts. This is what's happened. Maybe I've seen enough ugliness that now I can see something beautiful again. I just need to see the moon rise and cast its preternatural glow to know that I'll be okay. But for once, I think I actually need another human being to tell me everything will be okay and really mean it.
Friday, April 15, 2011
I observed quite a bit today. I witnessed an elderly woman throw a temper tantrum in a chinese restaurant and throw her eggrolls on the floor. She looked like her lips ate Joan Rivers, and should probably refrain from any more cosmetic surgery. I witnessed a man, probably close to his 40s, buying Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 1. This wouldn't have been so odd if he hadn't been balding, holding hands with his mother (he called the woman 'Mom', so she's either his mother or it's one of those weird sexual things), wearing a Harry Potter t-shirt, and if he hadn't pulled out a Pokemon wallet. I mean, Harry Potter and Pokemon are both cool by me. It's just odd, I think, for a 40 year old man to have both, especially considering these circumstances. Or not. Who the fuck am I to judge?
I also managed to befriend a wild turkey who was roaming in the woods. I clucked at her, and she clucked back, seeming to thank me for not murdering and then consuming her. I nodded in understanding, and she wandered away.
All in all I guess it wasn't a bad day.
I also managed to befriend a wild turkey who was roaming in the woods. I clucked at her, and she clucked back, seeming to thank me for not murdering and then consuming her. I nodded in understanding, and she wandered away.
All in all I guess it wasn't a bad day.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Ostensible.
If ever you feel disheartened by the color deficiency here, please don't be troubled. It's really exploding from our veins. We may lose control of the moment, but this new trend of indifference won't last forever. The moment I say this I know I'll regret it. This time, I'm going to keep it all to myself. With no hesitation, I can destroy everything I'm building. Like flipping a switch, I can turn myself off and become nothing to you. I can ruin you before you ruin me. Disquieted borderline behavior resonates. This is my only illusion.
In all honesty, I can endure anything. I can forgive so easily as to make it seem there were never a mistake that needed forgiving. We are all broken pieces, simply looking to restore our innocence. I could restore yours quite effortlessly. It's all a plea for purging. In essence, my mind believes that eventually you will come to see what is really underneath, and bemoan the day you chose this.
Is this the truth, or only superficial mendacity? In all truth, I cannot be false. Not to be confused, I am most definitely capable of being wrong; but no, never false. I am regrettably unexplainable. You could stab my heart a million times, and I would still smile and lick up the blood. Yet, I fear causing pain in another so deeply that I refrain from all motion as if one touch will shatter everything.
I'm losing.
In all honesty, I can endure anything. I can forgive so easily as to make it seem there were never a mistake that needed forgiving. We are all broken pieces, simply looking to restore our innocence. I could restore yours quite effortlessly. It's all a plea for purging. In essence, my mind believes that eventually you will come to see what is really underneath, and bemoan the day you chose this.
Is this the truth, or only superficial mendacity? In all truth, I cannot be false. Not to be confused, I am most definitely capable of being wrong; but no, never false. I am regrettably unexplainable. You could stab my heart a million times, and I would still smile and lick up the blood. Yet, I fear causing pain in another so deeply that I refrain from all motion as if one touch will shatter everything.
I'm losing.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Passenger Seat- Death Cab For Cutie
I heard this song today, and couldn't help but cry. It's your fault.
I heard this song today, and couldn't help but cry. It's your fault.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
That Guy With The Giant Peach...Starts With a "J", I'm sure....
You said, "The stars will fall like snow." I knew then that there was poetry in my despair. Darkness is but a mystery of curves and lines. Formed of stillness, you laid in my emptiness and drifted slowly inward. I pressed my mouth on yours, then said, " We can find salvation etched into the earth, like a message." I clung to the idea of a boy hung in my room, burning from within. I didn't know that I was the only display.
The sun blackened as it hung, stagnated somewhere beyond the horizon. We bled into the sea; dark, enchanted. The acrimony in your voice transformed to hedonism at the touch of my hand. I knew then that I had you. The chilling smell of night was on you like a disease. In our affliction of fervor you said, "I will be the death of you." You laughed at my bruises, and intensified the agony with each new incision. I believed at that moment I could perish for you.
Your passion become a conflagration, consuming me in the worst way. My heart, although drained, continued to beat. Your style became merciless; resolutely callow. Each broken piece fell away, making room for undeserved forgiveness. One more venture as each came to an end. "Please excuse my tears," I would say. You could not stand such an infinitesimal flaw. My tears corroded any concern you could have possessed.
My hopelessness turned to shame. The thought of not having you grazed my chest like a blade; yet I could not stand to be near you. Those last days, marked by extraction, remain omnipresent. To breathe for another moment of life is to relive you. I composed a list of you once. I foolishly thought that writing you down and disposing of the evidence could expunge you from my mind forever. But here you are, even now, haunting my present.
I honestly cannot decide how best to end you. To forget is my one diminutive, unadorned wish. I yearn unremittingly for peace; calm; for you to remain forever silenced. Shhh....
The sun blackened as it hung, stagnated somewhere beyond the horizon. We bled into the sea; dark, enchanted. The acrimony in your voice transformed to hedonism at the touch of my hand. I knew then that I had you. The chilling smell of night was on you like a disease. In our affliction of fervor you said, "I will be the death of you." You laughed at my bruises, and intensified the agony with each new incision. I believed at that moment I could perish for you.
Your passion become a conflagration, consuming me in the worst way. My heart, although drained, continued to beat. Your style became merciless; resolutely callow. Each broken piece fell away, making room for undeserved forgiveness. One more venture as each came to an end. "Please excuse my tears," I would say. You could not stand such an infinitesimal flaw. My tears corroded any concern you could have possessed.
My hopelessness turned to shame. The thought of not having you grazed my chest like a blade; yet I could not stand to be near you. Those last days, marked by extraction, remain omnipresent. To breathe for another moment of life is to relive you. I composed a list of you once. I foolishly thought that writing you down and disposing of the evidence could expunge you from my mind forever. But here you are, even now, haunting my present.
I honestly cannot decide how best to end you. To forget is my one diminutive, unadorned wish. I yearn unremittingly for peace; calm; for you to remain forever silenced. Shhh....
Friday, April 8, 2011
Girl of Abject Misery
I still can't talk about this. This thing that hangs over me, casting preternatural shadows. It's like a bad habit, always with me. Sometimes it creeps into my day, making me demure. I have feared that the only way to relieve my existence of this persistent abhorrence is death.
Something must die to be reborn as something else. I want this feeling of hopelessness to die, along with he who caused it. And once it is over, my fear, hate, hopelessness, and jaded impurity can die with him. I just need someone to speak the truth where I can hear it.
Something must die to be reborn as something else. I want this feeling of hopelessness to die, along with he who caused it. And once it is over, my fear, hate, hopelessness, and jaded impurity can die with him. I just need someone to speak the truth where I can hear it.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I just came to another realization. I have a tendency to become too comfortable with a person at a given moment, and end up saying too much and scaring the hell out of them- I need to work on that.
And another realization has to do with my intense fear of rejection. I have come to understand that although I do fear being rejected, I find more fear in the possibility of acceptance. If someone accepts me exactly as I am, with all my neurotic behaviors and thoughts, then what does that say about me, or them? I see all these things about me as problems needing to be corrected as quickly as possible. But if another person can take it for what it is, then what the fuck does that mean?
Fuck my life, is what it means. Perhaps it means that no matter how much I think I know or understand, it will always be subject to change. All it takes is one outsider perspective to rattle the cage and send everything I've built tumbling back down. But is that really so terrible? I think not. Just more unanswerable questions...go figure.
And another realization has to do with my intense fear of rejection. I have come to understand that although I do fear being rejected, I find more fear in the possibility of acceptance. If someone accepts me exactly as I am, with all my neurotic behaviors and thoughts, then what does that say about me, or them? I see all these things about me as problems needing to be corrected as quickly as possible. But if another person can take it for what it is, then what the fuck does that mean?
Fuck my life, is what it means. Perhaps it means that no matter how much I think I know or understand, it will always be subject to change. All it takes is one outsider perspective to rattle the cage and send everything I've built tumbling back down. But is that really so terrible? I think not. Just more unanswerable questions...go figure.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
So I realized that this blog is fucking depressing! I'm not an unhappy person...I actually find much joy in the world, despite random moments of guilelessness. It's just that for me to understand the weirdness that is my mind, I find it helpful to get it out and then look at it and realize, "Wow! That's incredibly dumb!" So in an effort to provide some insight into who I really am, here is a list of 20 random things that make me happy! Most of them are silly, but just go with the flow.
1. Music- Ner..
2. The look people get on their faces when you say what you're really thinking and it's inappropriate.
3. The amazing wonder that is the Earth. I mean fuck, isn't it beautiful?!
4. The word fuck. I believe it to be the most versatile word in the English language. Plus it just rolls off the tongue so nicely, doesn't it?
5. Arizona canned tea. It's only $.99 and it's fucking delicious!!
6. I take great joy in the fact that I am basically a human dictionary/thesaurus. This trait most likely developed while I was in high school, because I literally read the dictionary and actually carried it around in my purse so I could read it at work, appointments, and even red lights.
7. I love making people laugh, but the weird thing about it is that I'm not a very funny person. But somehow people always think I'm hilarious and always laugh when I talk. I just say what I'm thinking...who knows. But laughter is great!
8. Seeing people who aren't afraid to be themselves makes me ecstatic! Humans should rejoice in difference, not beat it down!
9. Animals. I mean come on. I don't see how anyone could see an animal and not feel a little warm fuzzy grow inside their heart.
10. Pillows and blankets. I don't care what time of day or night it is. Curling into a ball with pillows and blankets is one of my greatest joys. Especially if there is someone awesome to curl up with!
11. Finding people in the world who seem to really understand me. It is rare and it is amazing! It takes P.I.C. to a whole other level...
12. Having friends who I can just sit with. We can either be talking each other's heads off or sitting in silence for hours. Doesn't matter. We can just exist, and that's enough.
13. Clouds. I can stare at them floating away all day long.
14. Stars. I can stare at them twinkling all night long.
15. Sketch books! I have way more of these than I should, and they are all filled with crazy pictures and writing that would probably frighten most people.
16. Signs from the universe! This doesn't happen often, but every once in a while the universe will send me a very distinct chain of signs pertaining to a current situation. It makes everything so much easier, for that moment at least.
17. Days when I manage not to look like Wolverine and Blair Witch's love child. Haha I crack myself up. But really, my hair is like a separate entity that just lives on my head and does whatever the hell it wants. So I cherish days when it cooperates.
18. Glitter. I don't know why, but sometimes I just need to have a little sparkle in my life.
19. Travel. Getting away from the broken down routine that is my life and seeing new things...couldn't ask for more.
20. Analogies. Comparing things that shouldn't even go together just to prove a point is amusing. My favorite recent analogy that I shared with someone was, "Why would you go to McDonalds for a salad? That's like going to a strip club just to ask for a hug..."
Okay, well I guess that's it for now.
1. Music- Ner..
2. The look people get on their faces when you say what you're really thinking and it's inappropriate.
3. The amazing wonder that is the Earth. I mean fuck, isn't it beautiful?!
4. The word fuck. I believe it to be the most versatile word in the English language. Plus it just rolls off the tongue so nicely, doesn't it?
5. Arizona canned tea. It's only $.99 and it's fucking delicious!!
6. I take great joy in the fact that I am basically a human dictionary/thesaurus. This trait most likely developed while I was in high school, because I literally read the dictionary and actually carried it around in my purse so I could read it at work, appointments, and even red lights.
7. I love making people laugh, but the weird thing about it is that I'm not a very funny person. But somehow people always think I'm hilarious and always laugh when I talk. I just say what I'm thinking...who knows. But laughter is great!
8. Seeing people who aren't afraid to be themselves makes me ecstatic! Humans should rejoice in difference, not beat it down!
9. Animals. I mean come on. I don't see how anyone could see an animal and not feel a little warm fuzzy grow inside their heart.
10. Pillows and blankets. I don't care what time of day or night it is. Curling into a ball with pillows and blankets is one of my greatest joys. Especially if there is someone awesome to curl up with!
11. Finding people in the world who seem to really understand me. It is rare and it is amazing! It takes P.I.C. to a whole other level...
12. Having friends who I can just sit with. We can either be talking each other's heads off or sitting in silence for hours. Doesn't matter. We can just exist, and that's enough.
13. Clouds. I can stare at them floating away all day long.
14. Stars. I can stare at them twinkling all night long.
15. Sketch books! I have way more of these than I should, and they are all filled with crazy pictures and writing that would probably frighten most people.
16. Signs from the universe! This doesn't happen often, but every once in a while the universe will send me a very distinct chain of signs pertaining to a current situation. It makes everything so much easier, for that moment at least.
17. Days when I manage not to look like Wolverine and Blair Witch's love child. Haha I crack myself up. But really, my hair is like a separate entity that just lives on my head and does whatever the hell it wants. So I cherish days when it cooperates.
18. Glitter. I don't know why, but sometimes I just need to have a little sparkle in my life.
19. Travel. Getting away from the broken down routine that is my life and seeing new things...couldn't ask for more.
20. Analogies. Comparing things that shouldn't even go together just to prove a point is amusing. My favorite recent analogy that I shared with someone was, "Why would you go to McDonalds for a salad? That's like going to a strip club just to ask for a hug..."
Okay, well I guess that's it for now.
Imposition!
I just remembered the main issue that kept scraping through my brain last night: Imposition! I have an intense aversion to imposing on anyone to an extent that I appear uninterested.
In fact, I usually feel that my mere existence is imposition enough, and I couldn't possibly bother anyone for anything more than my right to live. This interesting idea renders me unable to initiate any type of conversation, even with people I know. And when I do attempt to initiate I immediately feel guilty for interrupting that persons day, because I feel certain that whatever they were doing before I barged in was much more important and/or interesting. I will rarely ask someone to go do anything with me, and when I do, I say annoying things like, "Only if you really want to. Really, it's up to you. Hey, are we still doing what we talked about? Well just don't do anything you don't want to do." I want to tell myself to shut up, but at the same time I feel like I need to give everyone an escape clause so they won't feel pity for me when they tell me to fuck off.
So I won't initiate hardly anything. I just seem distant and cold, which is far from the truth. It's my fault people see me this way because of my inexcusable behaviors. But no matter how well I understand these things, and no matter how much I analyze and contemplate, it makes no difference. I'm afraid I hinder everyone by wanting to be a part of their lives.
One last thing I noticed this morning; There have been five major times in my life when circumstances have left me in unbearable crippling emotional pain. I know I feel emotion much more intensely than most, probably due to the fact that I am unable to express it in any outward form. During these five events, I remember shutting down. I would eventually start to wake up again, but for the most part i just died a little more each time without ever being fully revived. I feel like I've reached a point where the wounds don't heal anymore. I'm also reaching a point where I want to feel something again, but in order to do so I have to place sutures on the places that make feeling impossible.
For some people these processes come and go as naturally as breathing. Not me, baby. I am endlessly difficult and ridiculous...outlandish even.
In fact, I usually feel that my mere existence is imposition enough, and I couldn't possibly bother anyone for anything more than my right to live. This interesting idea renders me unable to initiate any type of conversation, even with people I know. And when I do attempt to initiate I immediately feel guilty for interrupting that persons day, because I feel certain that whatever they were doing before I barged in was much more important and/or interesting. I will rarely ask someone to go do anything with me, and when I do, I say annoying things like, "Only if you really want to. Really, it's up to you. Hey, are we still doing what we talked about? Well just don't do anything you don't want to do." I want to tell myself to shut up, but at the same time I feel like I need to give everyone an escape clause so they won't feel pity for me when they tell me to fuck off.
So I won't initiate hardly anything. I just seem distant and cold, which is far from the truth. It's my fault people see me this way because of my inexcusable behaviors. But no matter how well I understand these things, and no matter how much I analyze and contemplate, it makes no difference. I'm afraid I hinder everyone by wanting to be a part of their lives.
One last thing I noticed this morning; There have been five major times in my life when circumstances have left me in unbearable crippling emotional pain. I know I feel emotion much more intensely than most, probably due to the fact that I am unable to express it in any outward form. During these five events, I remember shutting down. I would eventually start to wake up again, but for the most part i just died a little more each time without ever being fully revived. I feel like I've reached a point where the wounds don't heal anymore. I'm also reaching a point where I want to feel something again, but in order to do so I have to place sutures on the places that make feeling impossible.
For some people these processes come and go as naturally as breathing. Not me, baby. I am endlessly difficult and ridiculous...outlandish even.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Don't bother reading this- it's just the same inane bullshit.
Please don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I am cold or soulless. I am filled with more hope than most. So much, in fact, that it is almost unbearable. I possess a love that is sublime, and it flows from me at every opportunity.
I was driving last night and unfortunately decided to think about things while on the way to my destination. It never takes much for me to become engrossed in thought. I endlessly question the state of everything around me, and this night I had more than enough to ponder. I found myself becoming increasingly perturbed, and could only repeat, “I can’t. I’m ruined. I’m lost.”
I can’t keep doing this to myself. I've been ruined, and now I feel like I ruin everything else. And I’m just…fucking…lost.
I can try to justify the way I feel, but when it’s over I still can’t honestly say that it’s right. I feel that I've been conditioned to expect horrible things to happen. If I anticipate something terrible, I won’t be as crushed once it actually happens. But I realized that what is even more frightening is expecting this monstrous thing that never comes. It becomes yet another breeding ground for anxiety and paranoia. I start to let a few walls down, and then gripping fear strikes and I am scrambling to rebuild before the bad thing comes. Oh, why does everything with me have to be so analytical and complicated?!
My mind is so fucking frustrating. I can’t stand these intermittent moments of uncertainty. It’s normal to worry or to question, but not to this extreme. It doesn't take much to set it off, either. Something simple with a simple explanation occurs and my mind can produce 100 possible outcomes, most of them bad. I just need to calm down, and quickly. This is where I start to ruin everything…
Humanity makes me feel desolate at times. Because I see the way most people think and act, knowing I’m nothing like them, I assume I’m just nothing at all. Sometimes I feel like standing at the top of a mountain and waiting for my home planet to send me a rescue ship. I’m stranded. Lost.
Ha, and what is really amusing about this whole thing, is that even after all the positive reinforcements I receive I can still be back on the negative track in a matter of minutes. I want to believe, and I want to stop being paranoid. I want to stop writing about my damaged brain and my annoyingly cynical thoughts. It’s all the same shit, it just happens on different days. No matter how much I sit here and dissect my own idiocy I still can’t wrap my mind around my own mind. Damn, that’s pathetic.
I was driving last night and unfortunately decided to think about things while on the way to my destination. It never takes much for me to become engrossed in thought. I endlessly question the state of everything around me, and this night I had more than enough to ponder. I found myself becoming increasingly perturbed, and could only repeat, “I can’t. I’m ruined. I’m lost.”
I can’t keep doing this to myself. I've been ruined, and now I feel like I ruin everything else. And I’m just…fucking…lost.
I can try to justify the way I feel, but when it’s over I still can’t honestly say that it’s right. I feel that I've been conditioned to expect horrible things to happen. If I anticipate something terrible, I won’t be as crushed once it actually happens. But I realized that what is even more frightening is expecting this monstrous thing that never comes. It becomes yet another breeding ground for anxiety and paranoia. I start to let a few walls down, and then gripping fear strikes and I am scrambling to rebuild before the bad thing comes. Oh, why does everything with me have to be so analytical and complicated?!
My mind is so fucking frustrating. I can’t stand these intermittent moments of uncertainty. It’s normal to worry or to question, but not to this extreme. It doesn't take much to set it off, either. Something simple with a simple explanation occurs and my mind can produce 100 possible outcomes, most of them bad. I just need to calm down, and quickly. This is where I start to ruin everything…
Humanity makes me feel desolate at times. Because I see the way most people think and act, knowing I’m nothing like them, I assume I’m just nothing at all. Sometimes I feel like standing at the top of a mountain and waiting for my home planet to send me a rescue ship. I’m stranded. Lost.
Ha, and what is really amusing about this whole thing, is that even after all the positive reinforcements I receive I can still be back on the negative track in a matter of minutes. I want to believe, and I want to stop being paranoid. I want to stop writing about my damaged brain and my annoyingly cynical thoughts. It’s all the same shit, it just happens on different days. No matter how much I sit here and dissect my own idiocy I still can’t wrap my mind around my own mind. Damn, that’s pathetic.
Monday, April 4, 2011
I find myself unable to sleep, and of course my thoughts are bouncing around like pin balls. I was thinking about my friends and their relationships with their significant others, or lack thereof. I realized that I am always able to offer them advice or extremely detailed insight regarding an issue they are confronted with, and it usually benefits them. So now I'm wondering why I can do this for other people, but not myself. When it comes to any relationship, or even possible relationship of mine, I'm completely dumbfounded. It's quite disconcerting, actually.
I just sort of sit in bewilderment of the situation and wait to see what happens. I'm sure that this often gives the notion that I lack interest, which is usually not the case. But I find myself unable to communicate. I have plenty of thoughts I would delight in sharing, but the panic-inducing fear of how my thoughts will be perceived shuts my mouth before it can even open. Essentially I think it boils down to an extreme fear of rejection. I refuse to allow myself to become vulnerable, because vulnerability opens a door that can lead straight to acceptance or rejection. While acceptance is something every human craves, the possibilty of being rejected overshadows any inclinaton to take a chance.
I have also noticed that I have a tendency to project past attractions and repulsions where they don't belong. Thinking of what someone else did or said is not going to affect what is happening right now. Just because someone else did something horrible doesn't mean this new person will. Have I really become this fucking cynical? Can anyone really blame me, or anyone else for that matter? Humanity has 'progressed' into sophisticated cavemen. Calculating cruelty dressed up in so called civilized society.
I just sort of sit in bewilderment of the situation and wait to see what happens. I'm sure that this often gives the notion that I lack interest, which is usually not the case. But I find myself unable to communicate. I have plenty of thoughts I would delight in sharing, but the panic-inducing fear of how my thoughts will be perceived shuts my mouth before it can even open. Essentially I think it boils down to an extreme fear of rejection. I refuse to allow myself to become vulnerable, because vulnerability opens a door that can lead straight to acceptance or rejection. While acceptance is something every human craves, the possibilty of being rejected overshadows any inclinaton to take a chance.
I have also noticed that I have a tendency to project past attractions and repulsions where they don't belong. Thinking of what someone else did or said is not going to affect what is happening right now. Just because someone else did something horrible doesn't mean this new person will. Have I really become this fucking cynical? Can anyone really blame me, or anyone else for that matter? Humanity has 'progressed' into sophisticated cavemen. Calculating cruelty dressed up in so called civilized society.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Dissipative
Come closer, don't be so afraid to shed what you fear. Embrace the darkness with the light, and bask in the glow of the flame. We're all on the silk road to ruin. The impending doom is nailed, dead, and risen. Lend me your hand and we'll conquer it all. Or lend me your soul, and your heart I'll enthrall. Saved or condemned; to me they're the same. Hope is easily diminished in the sight of such shame. Fire slithers from my mouth in the form of prose. I can beguile your senses with the secrets I'll disclose. Captivate, dissociate.
Hope you brought a toothbrush baby; this could take all night...
So there's this place inside all of us; somewhere deep, beyond our hearts. From this place, we watch the drama that is our lives unfold with unbearable compassion. If we could quiet our minds enough, and transcend our egos enough, we could see how it really is- The mindless quality of total involvement that comes only when the ego is quiet and there is no attachment.
Somewhere inside we all know there is a place which is totally fulfilling. Not a desperate flick of fulfillment. It is a state of fulfillment. You may be experiencing despair that you will never feel that. GOOD. Because through the despair comes surrender, and through that surrender you get closer to it. And what keeps you from that place that gives you that total feeling and experience and knowing of fulfillment is all of this posturing your thoughts. All your way of organizing your world. Your plans, your games, your exploring.
We're all on a limited trip that is full of fear of its end, trying to make its own eternity. You can come to understand the possibilities through direct experience, inference through intellect, and faith.
We've become so super-sophisticated in our evaluative mechanisms that we question everything we hear. And you feel especially paranoid if you are committed to an existing system with great attachment.
The message you communicate has noting to do with what you say. It has nothing to do with the look on your face. It's the vibrations that emanate from you. If your vibrations are paranoid, that is what is being perceived. And when you are around small children, animals, or very flipped out psychotics, they will know you immediately.
If you're in polarity, you are creating polar opposites. You can only protest effectively when you love the person whose ideas you are protesting against as much as you love yourself.
Love has to spring from within; and it is in no way amenable to any form of inner or outer force. Love and coercion can never go together. But though love cannot be forced on anyone, it can be awakened in him through love itself. Love is essentially self-communicative. Those who do not have it catch it from those who do. True love in unconquerable and irresistible, and it goes on gathering power and spreading itself, until eventually it transforms everyone whom it touches.
The only way out of polarity is to take the poles of every set of opposites and see the way in which they are one. If you can get to the place where you see the interrelatedness of everything, and you see the oneness in it all, then no longer are you attached to your polarized position.
This is all a very simple, methodical, mechanical set of steps. But they’re only available to those who can hear. Let those who have ears hear. Teach not those who do not want to know. The whole game is based on faith.
What you may not understand is the whole game you have been playing is also based on faith. You have had faith in the rational mind. We are living in a society which is a temple dedicated to the rational man. Even though the first commandment says, “I am the lord thy god. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Even though that has been said and even though we repeat it we still worship the rational mind and its products. We worship our own sense data. It’s only when we see the assumptions that we’ve already been functioning on that we can start to extricate ourselves.
You’ve got to go the rate you can go. You wake up at the rate you wake up. You master your desire at the rate you master your desire. The disequilibrium comes into harmony at the rate it comes into harmony. You can’t rip the skin off the snake. It must be molted.
My thinking mind is a perfect servant and a lousy master. I am watching he who speaks. I am watching they who listen. I am watching thinking. Thoughts are clouds. The entire process from this place inside is always calm. A place in which the flame never flickers. And as I learn to live in this eternally calm place it gets deeper and deeper and calmer and calmer and wiser and lighter and I am more love and I become more and more like the sun. Just the process of calming, centering, extricating myself from the drama.
Mind creates matter. The casual plane is the world of ideas that creates the universe. Right at the top of the casual plane is what we call the godhead. It’s the first place into the universe of form. It’s the first world of form. It’s the place where the mind that is God manifested into the universe. His thought manifested into all the lower levels of the casual plane, all the astral planes and the physical plane, and when you go back you go to that place where you become one with the godhead. You are God. You are the id ea that lies behind the universe. You are literally it. You’re not making believe. You are it.
The final place that the game leads to is where you live consciously in all of it. Which is nothing. You are eternal. You have finished perishing. There is no fear of death because there is no death. It’s just a transformation…an illusion. And yet, seeing all that, you still flow in harmony with the universe. You are beyond morality and yet your actions are totally moral.
The psychosis business is an interesting business. If you go through the door too fast and you’re not ready for it you’re bound hand and foot and thrown into outer darkness. You may land anywhere and lots of people end up in institutions. The reason they do is they went through the door with their ego and they don’t understand that you have to die to be born.
Somewhere inside we all know there is a place which is totally fulfilling. Not a desperate flick of fulfillment. It is a state of fulfillment. You may be experiencing despair that you will never feel that. GOOD. Because through the despair comes surrender, and through that surrender you get closer to it. And what keeps you from that place that gives you that total feeling and experience and knowing of fulfillment is all of this posturing your thoughts. All your way of organizing your world. Your plans, your games, your exploring.
We're all on a limited trip that is full of fear of its end, trying to make its own eternity. You can come to understand the possibilities through direct experience, inference through intellect, and faith.
We've become so super-sophisticated in our evaluative mechanisms that we question everything we hear. And you feel especially paranoid if you are committed to an existing system with great attachment.
The message you communicate has noting to do with what you say. It has nothing to do with the look on your face. It's the vibrations that emanate from you. If your vibrations are paranoid, that is what is being perceived. And when you are around small children, animals, or very flipped out psychotics, they will know you immediately.
If you're in polarity, you are creating polar opposites. You can only protest effectively when you love the person whose ideas you are protesting against as much as you love yourself.
Love has to spring from within; and it is in no way amenable to any form of inner or outer force. Love and coercion can never go together. But though love cannot be forced on anyone, it can be awakened in him through love itself. Love is essentially self-communicative. Those who do not have it catch it from those who do. True love in unconquerable and irresistible, and it goes on gathering power and spreading itself, until eventually it transforms everyone whom it touches.
The only way out of polarity is to take the poles of every set of opposites and see the way in which they are one. If you can get to the place where you see the interrelatedness of everything, and you see the oneness in it all, then no longer are you attached to your polarized position.
This is all a very simple, methodical, mechanical set of steps. But they’re only available to those who can hear. Let those who have ears hear. Teach not those who do not want to know. The whole game is based on faith.
What you may not understand is the whole game you have been playing is also based on faith. You have had faith in the rational mind. We are living in a society which is a temple dedicated to the rational man. Even though the first commandment says, “I am the lord thy god. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Even though that has been said and even though we repeat it we still worship the rational mind and its products. We worship our own sense data. It’s only when we see the assumptions that we’ve already been functioning on that we can start to extricate ourselves.
You’ve got to go the rate you can go. You wake up at the rate you wake up. You master your desire at the rate you master your desire. The disequilibrium comes into harmony at the rate it comes into harmony. You can’t rip the skin off the snake. It must be molted.
My thinking mind is a perfect servant and a lousy master. I am watching he who speaks. I am watching they who listen. I am watching thinking. Thoughts are clouds. The entire process from this place inside is always calm. A place in which the flame never flickers. And as I learn to live in this eternally calm place it gets deeper and deeper and calmer and calmer and wiser and lighter and I am more love and I become more and more like the sun. Just the process of calming, centering, extricating myself from the drama.
Mind creates matter. The casual plane is the world of ideas that creates the universe. Right at the top of the casual plane is what we call the godhead. It’s the first place into the universe of form. It’s the first world of form. It’s the place where the mind that is God manifested into the universe. His thought manifested into all the lower levels of the casual plane, all the astral planes and the physical plane, and when you go back you go to that place where you become one with the godhead. You are God. You are the id ea that lies behind the universe. You are literally it. You’re not making believe. You are it.
The final place that the game leads to is where you live consciously in all of it. Which is nothing. You are eternal. You have finished perishing. There is no fear of death because there is no death. It’s just a transformation…an illusion. And yet, seeing all that, you still flow in harmony with the universe. You are beyond morality and yet your actions are totally moral.
The psychosis business is an interesting business. If you go through the door too fast and you’re not ready for it you’re bound hand and foot and thrown into outer darkness. You may land anywhere and lots of people end up in institutions. The reason they do is they went through the door with their ego and they don’t understand that you have to die to be born.
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