Tomorrow is the first day of December...

What an eventful month. Lose one, gain one, lose one, gain one.

I don't remember who it was, but someone told me not to worry about relationship problems because every relationship is going to end at sometime or another, no matter what.

My life is so intense right now, I work, I go to school, I experience life with the friends that I love more than they could imagine. Except the school aspect is slipping.

I feel happy, I feel alive, I feel like I know what I want. I also feel like there's a little poisonous plant growing in the pit of my stomach, but if I take the right precautions, I can kill it off now. My life at this point is figuring out what those precautions are so I don't let the poison spread throughout my body.

Additionally, I feel uncomfortable and squemish in my body. My legs are such a burden, I'm so close to just chopping them off.

Wow... I don't know how I would live without my legs.

I do(n't) know what to do with myself!

There is nothing in this world I have wanted more

What does our life consist of? Routine.
We are born, wake up each day, eat, breathe, school, work, sleep. We climb up the ladder through high school, then college, then the work force, then wisdom in our old age.

If we were to truly live, we wouldn't have a set schedule for each day just to make money to live comfortably. More than anything, I'd like to be isolated in a beautiful place to die. There is nothing to live for and there is nothing but ease and rest when we pass. How could the purpose here to be in disease and unrest?

When I say there is nothing to live for, I am referring to ourselves. Not you, whoever you may be, not the government, not the organized religion, not anyone. I know it may be self centered to tell you I am not living for you (although there are some of you that are the reasons I am still alive), but it really comes down to what we have to live for for ourselves, as much as I would not like to say it. I can find no reason, either now or for the future, that is a legitimate reason to keep living.

Do not take this for a suicide note, for it is not. It is just a simple explanation of my thoughts on death. We read a beautiful poem in English about death called Thanatopsis that reinforced the concept of death being natural and peaceful.

Thine individual being, shalt thou go to mix forever with the elements, to be a brother to th' insensible rock and to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. Yet not to thy eternal resting place shalt thou retire alone--nor couldst thou wish couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down, with patriarchs of the infant world--with kings the powerful of this earth--the wise, the good, fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, all in one might sepulchre.

There is nothing that could be better than eternal rest and peace.

I finally understand.

I am so in love with you.

Song of The

Follow me, then, to the roads of gold and the rivers of platinum.
The water can rush over our faces as we bathe in the moonlight.
I have never heard this voice in me before.
I have never felt this voice before.
It can change all the background noise that consumes our ignorant souls.
Hear the silence for once and let it flow in and out.

It was the saddest moment of my Life.

I walked into the room with small difficulty, my elevation was not normal and I had trouble walking and keeping my balance. The old, fragile woman resting in a chair set her gentle eyes upon me as I scuffled by. The task made me uneasy.

Although I sat agog anyway, and burrowed myself into the cold, uncomfortable chair. The atonal music soothed my absent mind. The jacket engulfed me.

That is when I glanced up to see the windows and wondered who was on the other side. I could feel the presence behind the red tint but couldn't see it. I heard everything that was going on.

I sat in a trance in the hall, the giant pipe organ silently intruded into my space. What is beyond those windows in that parallel life? What do those masses of energy believe in? Yet another simplified form of connection and faith (god)? Another facade of consciousness? The only problem is the differences in belief, the changes in illusion.

It was the saddest moment of my life.

The Moon Fell Away

I watched the sliver of a moon fade away tonight. Resting among the deep, dark clouds from the hurricane, I watched it transform itself into the effulgence of the sky. I observed as it seemed our sublunary earth started to spin faster than anyone has felt previously. Driving along the stretch of road was not the issue, the horizon ran away from me faster and faster.

The clouds circled around us in anticipation for the rain that probably isn't to come. The wind hit my face hard and I felt a myriad of emotions.

The moon was still falling away in dust. The star straggled behind. This was the end of those peaceful, aestival nights.

Because of the Peanut

You haven't been here in a while, but you're always here. The red dust that trails behind everywhere you go reminds you where you always are. You're sitting on the roof of the world and notice tiny little cracks in the ground have begun to appear. The rain hasn't fallen in months. At least not in this spot.

The rain shifts, yet it is not rain. Dollops of water are released from the cloudless sky every moment. There is no humidity. There is no source. There is always a paradox of activity from the motionless and endless ceiling. When you first discovered this wonderland, the nonstop flow was a phenomenon.

Now, as you are sitting here rolling the layers of burnt sienna over your ankles, the instant moisture is aggravating. It is nearing, and you are going to have to get up.

You are being and lifting yourself from this spot is not what you want to be. The dirt is being with you. The dirt that is and always has been. The dirt that is fresh to your fingertips. But being is not worrying, and you are worrying about the water. Being in worry, you are not being. Be the dirt. Be the air and the lack of humidity. A drop over there.

See the place you cut the paper thin and rubber thick air over there? Remember the box that seven and a half foot clown handed you? What was in that box... a peanut you believe. What the hell are you going to use a peanut for? A peanut is not even a nut. It is a pea. A drop over here.

You fall back through the tough slit of air holding this antiquated cardboard box. Peak in, what is here? Quick, look away! It could be harmful to your eyes. You begin to put your hand under the lid of the box. It could be harmful to your hand. Rather your hand than eye. Your almost useless appendages feel nothing but the box. Run your hand along the bottom. Something small and rough is there. Chance it, flip off the lid. A peanut. It is a peanut. Fall. Over. Crawl. To. A. New. Area. Bury. Peanut. Under. Ground. F.O.C.T.A.N.A.B.P.U.G. That should go with you when you leave this place. Never are you leaving this place.

Where was that peanut buried? You attatched it to your body and transported it somewhere. Was it the opposite direction of the burrow home you have made for yourself? It is interesting that you even made a burrow. There are no hawks or snakes here. And rain only in a specific location at a time. A drop on your hand.

Now you know why. In being you have mindlessly burrowed yourself under the dusty red surface. Just your face remains uncovered, but you know better than that. Although there is no wind, the not quite earth smooths over the tip of your nose, immersing you in the land. The music is muffled now. You can hear a couple drops impact a couple inches from your ear.

The dry, dynamic storm begins. The huge water droplets hit the earth above you and soak down into your skin. One on your left foot, your right thigh, your hip, your breast, your neck, and your forehead. You feel something generating in your stomach and another crawling back up your throat. Nothing to eat in months. Open your mouth to suck the air you don't need. The dirt piles in. The mass coming up through your body enters your mouth and sets in between your teeth.

Let your chthonic body sink and shut down all of your senses. Keep your ears open. Hear the susurrus of the ground moving around. But it stops moving around you and starts shaking inside your mouth. Silky, stringy substance starts to twist around your teeth and tongue and a force pulls your teeth upward. It is tension, but this force doesn't want your teeth to come out so you let it be. A thin, cylindrical form starts to move up and out of your mouth. It pushes up toward the near surface and breaks through. A pause. Drain your body. Energy into the mass. The stalk shoots up and you become lackadaisical. A tooth slides off.

The huge clusters of water are frozen in the air as the now muddy mess slides off your face. The sun is warm on your lifeless body. This empowers you. Sit up and hit your head on a blob of water. Take a bite. The rain stretches out, but you eventually break it off with your teeth, one now missing. All that was taken from your body has now been returned, and you are back to your normal, effulgent state.

The stalk that emerged from your own body is now spread out a couple feet away from your body. It is a plant. You watch as bramches grow from the body. A bud appears. You wait in anxiety to know what will appear. The protective coverings peel back and you see a tiny, tan speck. It grows.

It is a peanut.

Simply Unimaginable

Unimaginable for me? For you? For who? What is unimaginable?

You know, I do not.
I know, you do not.

When I walk down the hallway I take in through my nose what I should be taking in through my fingertips. I taste what I should be using my eyes for. I hear down to the artificial heartbeat what should be inhaled and touching my tongue.

There is not much reality that lives in my mind at the moment. And unfortunately, there is none of my mind that lives in reality. I seem to have entangled myself into an almost easily avoidable crunch of the universe. Not to say I am discontent, because that would be a lie. My thoughts just rest on other people, places, and things than the ones I have previously known.

We all gauge our lives based on a single set of feelings and emotions. Happy = positive; sad = negative. But what about the emotions that fall under other categories? The ones where you ask me how I am feeling and I plainly just do not know. Then you inquire as to how I could not know. I wonder how my reasoning is beyond you.

I want to explore a whole new level of feeling, I am sick of feeling either happy or sad. They are incredibly empty emotions. I feel almost like we, as a society, stereotype ourselves with emotional words. I have found for myself that when I generalize my feelings, I feel more discontent, for lack of a better word. When I specify down to the button what is going through my mind, I feel very content. For instance, when I am upset, identifying my exact emotion and why it is there is what makes me feel instantly better. On the other hand, if I am happy and don't necessarily know how to describe it, I kind of bring myself down.

I think for once we shouldn't have to ground ourselves and instead embrace everything we feel, whether or not it is familiar. Know that what your mind and soul want you hold in your presence is always for the better, whether you connotate it to be a positive or negative emotion.

There will be a part two to this.

Processing the Past

This past week I had an interesting, upsetting, nostalgic, yet wonderful experience. I am trying to process it all. Half of the time I feel upset, then the other half I am reminding myself that everything that happened was Divine order.

When I walked into the room, I had never felt a greater energy. Almost midnight, I stared at the off-white ceiling for thirty minutes. The lights reflected gold.

This is the year you are glad to live.
This is the year you have much to give.
Live to bless.
Wonderful, wonderful, fortunate you.
This is the year that your dreams come true.

The old book of song guided me to the numberless page. I accepted gratefully, overwhelmed with an unidentified emotion.

Darkness has vanished,
Light is shining clear.
Truth's glorious message makes the glad earth free.
Shine in my soul, fill me with life and light.

The silence is so overpowering I have become dizzy. I have never felt a presence as strong as I do in this room. I see this sugar ant climbing through the folds of my jacket; I bless you. In a world where all else is dark, I have found a light in this one moment. I can see the energy moving through out the entire room and travelling into my soul. What an experience.

I feel your light touch and my heart races.

I heard the voice of an angel. I felt the emotions of an angel. I looked into the eyes of an angel. An angel.

How big is

Forever?

Think on it.

Description of my Current Emotion

Imagine lying on an emormous plateau and the sky is so blue it appears white. The weather is so warm, but there are no droplets of sweat rolling down your forehead. There is nothing in particular you really want to do, but lethargy is the emotion furthest from what you are feeling. You feel alive, alert, and almost invincible. You could jump off the cliff only to float down and land peacefully on your feet.

If any one else was present on the plateau, this feeling would instantly dissolve.

You feel very plain, almost 2-D. You can play in the dirt but it doesn't get you dirty. It's almost like a circus with no tents, clowns, canons, fireworks, candy, fire-breathers, or tight rope walkers. The music is raging in your head, but not in an angry way. The music is 2-D as well.

Everything is heart warming in the most independent way possible. It's not a Christmas time heart warming. It's a barren heart warming. The feeling you acquire when you realize you're tired of having people in general in your life.

Breathe in the dirt. Don't be afraid.

Stand at the edge of the plateau because there is no wind. Even if you fell it would be okay because the burnt orange surroundings will help you slide down. Scratches and bruises are nonexistant. Kick a rock over and count how many seconds until it hits the ground.

This isn't boredom, this is fusion to the surroundings.

The 2-D music comes back as if it is being played by a loudspeaker all over the desert. The sound waves become visible, so stop swimming in the dirt and watch the vibrations bounce off the clouds because they are imminently going to come and rustle your hair. When it does, time is going to slow down, as is the heat. You'll be able to slice the air open!

It's happening! Get out your safety scissors!

Jab your scissors into the air and cut a little slit. The air is kind of hard to push open, it sort of feels like a rubber and gelatin mix. Everything seems to be melting. Oooh you wonder what happens when you stick your head through the curtain of air. Poke through! First the tip of your nose. Take a whiff. Smells like... heat, the same as the side containing the rest of your body. Stick your tongue out now and taste the thick atmosphere on the other side. Tastes like... heat. Alright, muster up the courage to peek in.

Holy shit! It's a real Circus!

You don't know if you want to handle all of that. You were in such a comfortable place on your vast plateau. Sit in the dirt and think about it. Get up and tuck your scissors in your pants for safe keeping, and burst through the rip in the air. A seven and a half foot tall clown hands you a box and assists you in manuvering a sloppy cartwheel. That was weird and uncomfortable.

Maybe you should come back to the Circus another day. Now return to your oven of populous solitude and busy yourself with playing in the dirt again!

Rejuvenation!

I feel so good. I feel so unlike I ever have before. It's a carefree feeling. I focus even further on my studies than you would ever know. A very select few of you matter to me anymore. All others have corrupt themselves with the extreme impurities of the world. And you know what? I don't care anymore.

I used to.

I used to care about my own impurities. Although I rather think the correct word would be "imperfections." Well I don't think it was so much that I cared about them. I liked them a little bit. I just judged myself too harshly. (And I still do.)

I do and I also do not know why I feel differently now. I do know that I feel better because I stopped caring about most things in life, except my own faith. I do not know why I do not care. I am almost ashamed that I don't care anymore. But not really.

Regardless, I feel so fresh now. I wake up to the natural shaded light and just lay there without a fear or a worry or a thought even. Just feeling. Feeling everything around me, especially the sun's rays. I like to feel. I just wish I knew how to put my "feelings" into a word.

This is good. I like me.

Flooding

It's as if everything everyone has ever felt is now bubbling up and brimming over the top. It really felt as if I was in a dream.

But you pinched me to let me know I was not.

I just felt the raw dirt and concrete dust mixed in with the dried and fresh salt of my own tears that had been locked up so long. The dirt doesn't scare me.

Everything I have been feeling for the past two months has been let out and I feel myself being relieved of everything.

This is the beginning of a new era. Everything is changing, like it always does. The everyday changes usually go by unnoticed. The thoughts occuring in each mind each second validate that. If you haven't realized by now, each thought is a change.

I have thought a lot about that picture with a person sitting holding a sign saying, "Keep your coins, I want change." I think this is absurd. I've spent too much of my life waiting for the change to come to me. Hah, "too much of my life." I'm so young. We are all so young.

Want your life to change? Change your thoughts.

Up for the challenge?

Tough.

Again, it starts off with me sitting here listening to the rest of you talk. But this time we're lazily sprawled on the grass. This grass isn't soft, and it's trying to penetrate my skin. Not like I'm going to let it. You're not as harsh as you think you are, grass. The rest of you are all complaining, inquiring as to why the hell I would want to sit here, and the bugs are annoying you. I block out your meaningless words. I like the grass, I like that it's not a fucking feather in a pillowcase.

Days later, I've dropped into my own little sort of fantasy world. I don't feel anymore, and I kind of like it. I'm not so sure where I'm going anymore, and I don't even know how to get to my nonexistent destination. I see my face getting softer and softer each day, yet I notice my features are becoming sharper than ever.

I feel like it's only a matter of time until our souls fall into the light and into the inexplicable bliss I know we have both felt before.

I feel like I've been able to sense your presence. I don't know who you are, but I know when you're near.