Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.


(except the fuck everybody part, i like)

Running. Stretching. Strengthening.

C'est comme une bagarre entre la voix d'encouragement et la voix violente qui veut que je reste amorphe. Mais je ne veux pas me battre. Je veux juste vivre. La vie n'est pas un combat. Qui, à part moi-même, puis-je combattre? Et j'ai besoin d'encouragement, de tendresse, de patience. Pourquoi cette fatigue? Je ne la rejette pas, mais je la regarde. D'où vient-elle? Ce manque d'énergie surgit soudainement et mes pensées se tournent contre moi. Laisser ces tourments être présent et continuer mon chemin. La vie n'arrête pas quand il pleut, et cette pluie nourri, nettoie et rafraichi. Mais comme c'est difficile d'accepter que je ne peux faire ce que je dois faire durant cette pluie, que je dois attendre le lendemain. C'est insupportable de me plaindre, me plaindre, me tortiller en mal, de n'entendre que les pensées défaitistes quand je pourrais écouter la pluie tomber, danser avec mes sens.


..


J'ai envie de chanter, de fluter, d'exprimer.


"If you are willing to follow the yearning of your heart out into the stars, and if you have the courage to journey down into the depth f your own nature, you just might meet the ally, the guardian who walks with you, in your dreams."

je ne veux rien d'autre qêtre une goutelette d'eau qui tombe du ciel, se laisse tomber vers le sol et explose en cercle infini au milieu d'un lac de l'existence. echo, echo, echoing. existence pulsing through me, yearning, yeaning, such yearning from this deep dwelling of isolation i hover in, so much so much, such.. such.. wordless now, wordless now, tears flowing invisibly in this isolation, fearless now, wordless,

words stop coming. solitude expands. i work hard to flow on, and on and i feel i'm not fulfilling. what? who feels this? i? who is i? what to accomplish. what degree. what class. what goal for 10 years from now. what money to pay which apartment. working for what. trying to get a bigger square room? waiting to feel certain and have children? the moment the moment wells up in my chest, i feel so alone.



the moment existence wells up in my chest, i feel so alone.


..







training is making me feel alive. running 10 laps around the track, blood pumping, breath loud and heavy, feeling powerful and alive. stretching is liberating, let's see what this is like in 2 months. i can keep this going. it's important to me because it feels IN TUNE with the life within. fuck ideas of what i am or can be. i can train, i can be physically active, i can be strong and flexible and learn martial arts. even my self-defeating thoughts can't stop me because something in my heart sings with this image of body expression and movement. 


...


sadness wells. wishful thinking to have a guardian, an ally?
solitude takes a toll. no. isolation does. an isolate in a mathematical equation. it seems as though i can feel Life being immense in its ordinary existence and i want to let it burst through through me, use me, be me, shine on through. but i doubt. i doubt. and i fear others watching me. i doubt. but the doubt and the fear are thoughts of non-existing moments. what shines on now in my heart if i stop to Reality, to feeling, to being this moment.. exuberance bubbles up to scream buoyantly to follow the chords of being, what a melody, what a melody, what a melody, how can i express all of this, 


guardian, ally, i listen i listen, let us express together, let us make beauties and atrocities, let us shine forth the truth of being, the beauty of death, the intensity of the unknown situation that is what is. i can't take for granted that if i take away the words of explanations for everything, there remains the world which has no answers for anything. there is a world. something is here, from what, from where. what is . i am in awe, i am in question, i am in chaotically ordered existence, i am feeling overwhelmed by this, by this. there's no description for this is, i want to find the Friend, i need an accomplice, where is the Friend to take my hand, i cannot be isolated how could it be when so many creatures walk forth all around me, i need diversity, i need acceptance, i need love, i need to dance and scream and dance and live as intensely outwardly as all is experienced intensely inwardly or else it all gets jumbled up and stuck and blocked inside, oh ally, oh guardian, oh friend, oh my kin, my kin, my kin
i long. i long. i yearn deeply for my kin and i deeply disbelieve their existence. i am terrified of this aloneness forever.
terrified forever. thoughts. future.
now is loneliness.

..

this moment, writing is like walking the path in my guts. walking the road. the theme that stays is walking alone.

i wish through this writing, i could meet this Friend.
and if this Friend were here, what would he say.
..



..



he would make my chest tingle warmly, fill me with loving showers, for that's the language he speaks.


there is nothing as intimate as the Friendship of creators.

 //