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Thursday, 27 October 2011

One step forward, two steps back

7am musings over a classy Hungry Jacks breakfast

This week has overwhelmed and shocked me more than any single week on record this year.  For multiple reasons.  
I'm mildly pleased and proud with myself.  But in that "display of self love" 'I've taken a step back - really, I'm truly scared of myself.  Scared is an understatement. I'm actually terrified of myself. Still waters run deep - and so do the issues.  I'm naked in my own eyes and it's disturbing and unsettling.  The "goth" "hippy" "airy fairy" "otherworldly" "recluse" is stuck in a rut, but there aint no mummy to rescue her this time, because she can no longer be a mummy to herself.  It's been a struggle to find a link between the cracks for a long, long time.  Now I've found it. I've only taken one step forward, and two steps back.
It's not a game to me any more.  

If there's anything I don't like, it's unsympathetic people.  It must be a creepy, cold  world inside of there, a mixture of Germany, China and Finland with a sprinkle of Russia for good measure. It's hard to sympathise with the lack of sympathy unsympathetic people have for others.  I waste my breath voicing any concern or expressing my emotional responses out loud - it's only counteracted with narrow-mindedness and cruel sharp comments used to berate and belittle the 'sufferer', or my own supposed 'gentle nativity'.  In fact, I usually waste my breath I find, on a regular basis, 50 times daily or more - so why do I even bother speaking?  Maybe that's why I don't try much any more.  There doesn't seem to be much of a point especially at work and especially in my own family.  I feel the most isolated, lonely and freakish in my family, and when there is no family in your mind, what is there?.  Where are you? To whom, to where, to WHAT do you belong?  What is there but your God and the hollowness, the death-in-the-midst-of-life around you?  And what is this death?  Every thing!  Someone today said to me "I've got to make use of every minute tomorrow for work", it struck me as a perverse thing to say, to use life?  Isn't that approach to life a form of death? Possibly it was the perception of a kooky abstract mind.  Possibly I'm not as insane as I think.  There are little deaths I see everywhere, of all things, all activities, all conversations, every present moment, every future moment, all states of being, all thoughts and emotions, all ambitions and anxieties, every hour and minute - little deaths.  Everything fading, and changing, and passing - utter impermanence - and Time is the Grim.  What is beautiful is to see the rebirths.  But that is rare.   

I really hate the sound of bells.  

Really...we're like those deathly pale moths that twitch against the glass of the window at night, burning to reach the source of those rays of Light inside.  That's why moths are adorable creatures, because they mindlessly transfix and obsess, they're seriously the most neurotic creatures that exist on the whole of planet earth.  They're just like us. 

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