morning makes dreams feel false. dreaming makes life feel boring. but what are dreams without the world void of and longing for their mystique? and what is life without fantasy?
an earlier journal entry: I know what it feels to mean it. sure doesn’t feel like this.
welcome to vanity: a deep rejection of self, a hatred of sorts, a self-tyranny and yet, you still try to give the light you know you are capable of shining. welcome to purgatory. and yes, I do believe it is palpable from the outside. I do believe people can sense something, perhaps not totally disingenuous, but something in disagreement with itself.
to mean it. to be inside it. to stand by it. to need to say it. to want to say it. to believe in it. oddly, in my life this has come along with a sense of not needing to say anything at all, but knowing the moment for what it is. volition.
have you baked yourself too many colors deep into a layer cake to know what you mean? you can truly live a whole life not meaning anything. for the creative who endeavors to still say something, they will be left with dust to create dancing figurines and curse the pair of eyes in the mirror who could not command dust to the will of their hands.
if you’re going to mean your living, you might need to mean some dying too. or first.
the human who jumps from a ledge has made the same decision as the human who unconditionally supports themself. both are a radical act of volition in a lukewarm landscape. the same energy that sows suicide is also fertile soil for deep expansion of consciousness.
who will know me? I will. who will validate this feeling? I will. who will love me when my hair is white? I will.
shouldn’t’s, virtues, stories and figments fade with their decrease as commodities.
a man who fears a woman fears himself. a woman who hates a man hates herself. in all that bitterness they are victim to the fact that they happen to find themself breathing. void of volition. untie those feelings from the pole where they are chained in the backyard and set the animal free to run, build muscle and become something beautiful to watch it dancing.
only in knowing my shame and its many voices have I witnessed it turn into love. wear the shame like a mohair sweater in the summer until in the sweat you can feel the pain it causes you. there is no better a time to mean love.