all there is to us

still here.

less that I’d like but that awareness is reassuring… or so I want to believe.

when not using the clickity clacks of words created by pressure on buttons the head fills up with unnecessary… junk. The spam box of our minds. What people say on social media most of the time. The stuff you say to your loved one when you just had a bad day and didn’t think to pause so you it wouldn’t be projected onto someone else.

this “kind of stuff”…

_______________

trying to make any sense of what can’t have it is exhausting… And I know it can’t make sense.
but after a lifetime of making sense of things to be able to fit somehow… it’s hard to stop.

the gap between my reality and what I see around me is getting wider. It’s scary. I’m further away from all the certainty I carried with me for (too) long.

that certainty, although unconsciously forced, served me well. Or at least I lived with the feeling that it was serving me well. Looking back it has taken such a big toll that I doubt I’ll ever recover from it yet sometimes I miss it…

to be absolute about the lack of any absolutes is challenging.

and while the sun shines bright up there, and the nights are warm, there is more time for the transmitters to party around and talk a lot more.

it’s easy to forget how to relax.

there such amazing discipline and rigour that I lack that I find the subject fascinating and somewhat out of my reach. That only happens out of my incapacity to be disciplined enough to try to use it.

see? It’s confusing.

but this is my little corner of both concern and joy, where words can flow without judgement and never to be taken back as if they were written in an old piece of paper and went inside a bottle in the ocean… with the hopes that it will never be found.

or, if found, they only reach the true adventurers that chose to move to desert islands and let go of all kinds of dressings needed for society.

(let me be, I appreciate the delusion that everything just exists for the moment and that for each button I press there is an immediate and infinite disappearance right after “publish”)

it’s not lost on me how much the need to “get it out to disappear” found its way on a platform where it remains. I like challenges. It’s hard to be close, harder to be away.

also irregular in all its forms. Accepting irregularity doesn’t give you the peace I looked for.

so many years of working hard to accept constant change made me lustful for a certain boring timeline that I’ve despised in the past. Because I can’t have it now even if I wanted it. I would still go for it - unfortunately I know I would jump at the chance to complain about the boring stability. And I wish the doors were still open for that. Feels like a lifeline has been taken away and I’m left without a safety net while doing gymnastic efforts on top of the circus tent.

i would do anything for my body to accept the bare minimum needed to embrace boring regularity. It would be good for it… Well, it was “good” for it due to the lack of information - in fact I was creating more damage - but… you know? Delusions can save lifes as much as they destroy them. They probably destroy more than they save but at least you don’t know you’re being destroyed.

in the end, it’s only perception.

and I wish I could have more control over… what can’t be controlled.

i once had the delusion that I was in control. I thought I was happy so I was genuinely happy. The delusion broke and I’m left wondering if there is any tiny strong line of fake reality I can hold on to…

isn’t this what we all have in common though?