Care

I found out about a month ago that, personality-wise, I am an INFJ. Apparently it's the rarest of all 16 personality types. This is psychology, and it's not entirely accurate or as intensely applicable for everyone, and I suspect there are blurs between personalities, but the description for INFJ sums up my behavior and mental patters quite well. INFJ stands for Introverted/Introspective Intuitive Feeling Judging.

One trait found in INFJs and me alike, is caring for others. I have said, several times to friends, that I find it difficult not to care about people. I care too much. Whether it manifests in a positive way, such as trying to help someone with a problem, or whether it is more negative, such as caring about what someone somewhere says about me that may be negative. It's a twisted, paradoxical approach to the world and what we call 'life'. Delve, I go.

I care about people. Very much. Even those who tended not to be very nice to me in high school. I fantasised about standing up to them and bringing justice with my witty vocabulary and words of literary steel, but none of that came out really, because I never saw the need for vengeance past the illusion of a thought. I thought the bullies off my bus during my high school years weren't being nice to me when they called me 'gay' or 'big-nose', but I did not think they were bad people, just choosing conflict or preying upon the weak because they felt they had to, somehow, in their minds. I didn't know about egos at the time, but that's effectively what was operating in their minds, I reckon now, retrospectively. They were, still are, human beings, who I felt ought to have been punished, so they would learn from their mistakes. But at the same time, I also felt they needed to be treated with compassion, somewhere behind my peek-a-booing veil of revenge-thoughts. I cared about them even when they hurt me. I couldn't bring myself to harm them, to retaliate. I just went back into my shell, accepting the damage they were dealing me as pain, overthinking about it the next day. Funny times, those were. But I grew past that.

I care about people, even before I meet them. I recognise that you are a human being, and if I meet you, I assume you have a need to be cared for. This care manifests if I can get out from behind the introverted wall that is placed up like a panel against the wind, when we first meet. It comes down the more trust I can build in you. And it isn't very hard to build trust, it just requires you to pay me attention, even just being interested in what I have to say, or asking me questions. But even with that windbreaker, I care about you. I want to hear about your problems and perhaps I could offer you some help with them. Even if they are minor, I enjoy listening and then solving. I am not always right, I do not promise I am. But I feel I can be of service by simply listening, being there. I cherish that position of someone that is 'always there'. If not in body, in spirit. I truly value that because I feel it's a way of interacting and connecting with people, by jumping on their ship and showing them perhaps, if I know, how to steer out of the muddy waters they may find themselves in. I feel useful when I do that, when I help. And afterwards, when they are in calmer seas, I feel good, and still care about them.

The windbreaker I put up is more for my own protection, as a way of preventing hurt from you by not sharing so much with you until I feel it is safe to share that. The way to make me feel safe is by showing me you care enough to listen to what I say without judging me. Judgment is terrifying for me. Well, I have learned to not dwell upon it, but in the moment that it is given, I still am affected by judgments. I haven't yet found the strength to just discard them and move on. But I reckon that will come.

I care. I would like others to care as much as I do, about others, about me. Alas, that does not happen, nor I believe is it meant to. I want to be cared for, yes, while still offering care to others. I believe people who do care for me could communicate that to me. It feels good. It validates my existence, to know that I am not alienated. I don't have to be made to feel special, because that is an illusion and I accept that. But the more selfless I am, without having some of that care returned, the more drained I feel. But expecting... I am expecting... I need to stop that. Because expectations aren't going to be fulfilled.

"A Course In Miracles" says that one should not have any cares, and just trust. So, I trust. I think it refers to cares more of the material type, but, what if it also means the emotional type. Like emotional validation. No 'what ifs'. I remember now. A close friend told me not to do those 'what ifs'. Just go with it. So I leave this question open, and trust in the Answer.

I wonder also whether it is a question of others not being able to express that they care. Or perhaps they don't feel the care at all, and it's just in my head because I want them to care for me as much as I care for them. I realise that people don't do that - they don't show it. And I accept that, I don't need to be overwhelmed by it, as I imagine I would be if the same level of care that I project into the world would be returned on to me. Yet, I want more. And I have been told that I ought to be more selfish. I do want to be cared for. A good friend says to me that that's just being human. Before, I thought thinking something like that was terribly arrogant and demanding. Now, perhaps it isn't quite as horrific, but it still doesn't sit well with me. It feels like I'm asking something of the world that it cannot give. Love, say. Maybe I'm just not seeing it. Maybe I choose not to see it because I want to feel like a victim? That's no winning formula.

But people can give love. I cannot expect it, or I will be disappointed. But I hope, somehow, someday, I will receive love, unhinged, unencumbered, unconditional. And I give because I am given.

Thoughts, Trust, Translation

I have this feeling right now, as I'm talking to my friend who is suffering and away in another city, of being distant and alien. I'm trying to tell her not to worry about her exam, and trying to make her aware of the psychology of what she's doing, as I see it. Basically, trying to make her more conscious of her actions and what consequences they are having on her mentality as she's relaying to me and I'm interpreting. I've done this many times before, with her, with others, so much so that perhaps it's become my schtick, part of my identity. Yet, having done it up until now, I'd felt like I'd had something to give, like I could help. And now, in doubting myself, I also doubt what I can say to her, since it's the same problem that's cropped up just in a different format each time. I suddenly feel distant, like the language I'm using to speak to her is different to hers. And a different dialect means communication is broken, at least on the surface. At least to me. She replies laconically with a 'LOL' and a 'k'. I don't know how to interpret that. She says she knows what I mean and that she'll try take my advice. I say 'good'. This is where I leave it to faith.

Maybe it's my own insecurity that I'm projecting onto her own mental imbalance that is making me feel that I've lost my 'touch'. I'm not as much in contact with who I thought I was, and so, confidence aside, I don't really believe in what I'm saying as much anymore. I talk about love as if I know what it means. I talk about fears and their non-existence but as illusions in our minds as if I abide by those rules, yet I don't. I haven't yet learned enough of these lessons that I try teach others. And it's making me feel inadequate, like I ought not to talk to them lest I teach them something 'wrong', even though I don't believe I can do that.

I just feel confused really. Uncertain about who I am, at the core of it all - and so, everything, everything that rests upon this foundation, now is blurred. "A Course In Miracles" did say that in order to follow it, I would eventually end up questioning everything I believed in. And I accepted that, perhaps not wholeheartedly. But now it seems real. Doubt has entered. Ok, I understand most things are not as I thought they are. And yet, it has to go deeper than that. And I feel that the deeper I go, the more distant I become from the world, from the people in it, from what they do and what they think about. That's... unsettling. But perhaps it's only unsettling because I am still trying to think my way through it all. Thinking's a defense mechanism for me. It reduces all change down to an interpretation that maintains my mental schematics and plans as intact as it can. But now, everything I'd been working for, built in that schema, is under doubt. Does it really matter? Well... if I think about it, I try answer yes and say why and postpone and delay. And if I just leave it? I come to an uncomfortable feeling of... 'no, it doesn't matter.'

So it doesn't matter that I don't know what my life is about. It doesn't matter that I have tried to build an image of myself as always being there for other people, sacrificing myself along the way. It doesn't matter, because it's not true, and it's too hard to maintain anyway. It doesn't matter who I've tried to impersonate. It doesn't matter that I've questioned my sexuality and haven't concluded anything concrete. It doesn't matter that I tried to attract the attention of some of my friends over and over and over again, seeking validation for what I was doing and thinking. It doesn't matter that I was trying to make things that didn't matter, matter. It still doesn't matter. Because at the end of the day, I'm not the one that decides what matters and what does not. I am not God. And so, all that I've 'striven' to maintain, a "Cris" that is nice as can be, intelligent, altruistic, caring, loving, emotional, determined, proactive, sociable, approachable, going-that-extra-mile-for-someone, not asking for much in return, all that, doesn't matter. It doesn't.

I'm not saying I am a waste of space because I'm not. I'm not a victim here, despite what my ego would like me to believe. But it doesn't matter that I tried to be this way, and not, say, a bully, or a heartless asshole, whatever that means. Because, I feel I've cheated myself in trying to use this 'good' image as a ladder to get love from people, attention and validation particularly. I think part of my image used to be that I didn't require these, and when I was given them perhaps I took them for granted. And now, now that I've gone into my thought patterns, I've unmasked that there is a desire, suppressed, for attention and validation. I thought I was above those, but apparently wanting them just makes me human. And I ought not to be ashamed to ask for them. The 'how to ask' part I'm a bit hazy on, however. Maybe I thought I wasn't human, I was better than human. Imagine that; a human thinking he is better than a human. False superiority complex. Yeah. This isn't unconditional love at all. Yet, maybe the attention and validation that I'd gotten is the closest thing I've come to, so far, from what I can remember. Yet the past is gone so what am I left with if I'm not to dig up memories. How can I even tell if something is unconditional if I don't trust it, anyway?

The love I get, I have to trust. I think that's the lesson. Trust that it won't go away, the truth in it is ever unconditional and will remain that way. The question my mind comes up with then is how can I tell when someone gives me love? And that requires trust, too. The desire to see it, too. I remember something: If I believe someone is hurting me, then I will believe I am hurt. And if I believe someone loves me, then I will believe I am loved. I prefer the latter. I would prefer it be the truth. I can't translate from anything to truth though. That's where You come in then. Be my translator, please.

Shit-shat

I seem to seek out relationships that fall under my categorisation of 'deep and meaningful'. Apparently, to me, that is the form of relationship that not only lasts longest but offers me most opportunity for growth.

I think I was under the influence of idealism when I made up that cockamamie criteria. I did not realise that I was unconsciously trying to fit every single friendship I had into that tight box which visually I picture as a plastic bottle rim that remains on the bottle after the lid is taken off. So, I feel ashamed, though I should cease judgment, to admit that it's really what I look for in all relationships - the capability of space and depth so the meanings of life can come through. I've been missing the point of communication. No wonder I feel lonely, but I think I had been too proud to look at myself in the mirror and see that how I was seeing other people was truly under a microscope that sought to penetrate through the skin to their core, a core I would have taken as a prize for my triumph over mediocrity. Pride again.

The realisation came to me this evening, sparked off by words a friend who said, after listening to what I had been saying about anxiety and borders between people and my fears that it was difficult to transcend them, that to him everyone is his friend. It's a simple attitude, a perspective, yet somehow I'd erased it from my consciousness from when I was younger. I am nice and respectful to others, yet from about the start of this year, I've been unable to properly connect with new people, save for some, because I'd always be thinking about what they were thinking about me or how I should act so that I don't budge any of their social protocols. I've trained myself to see these barriers, and thus believe in them as if they were real, so now instead of seeing faces I see walls with faces behind them. And my attempts are muffled as the sound refracts.

I resorted then to a method of connection that was deeper than skin, and thus not conveyable via words, though I tried that way, too. My friend respectfully, honestly and correctly pointed out to me towards the end of our dialogue, that I try too much to connect too deeply with people I barely know. This comes partly from the belief that I'd been attempting to learn that everyone is, within, the same, one. Mostly, I believe it comes from stubbornness and fear, a combination that disallows me the comfort of 'chit-chat' in favor of 'heart-to-heart'. I'm almost too keen to have heart-to-heart conversations because I feel more comfortable discussing the meanings of life and whatnot, in my pride thinking such things mean much more than 'petty' things that people talk about, from food, to the weather, to what happened yesterday. But in truth, 'hidden meanings' have no more meaning than 'meaningless banter'. That's because, save for rare occasions which subconsciously I believe I seek out in these attempts, introspection is based on my own semantics and thus just shows up more complex images of what I believe. To clarify, a cup can be a vessel of possibility, or it could just not match with a plate, both ways the meaning lying on different levels, and both missing the spaciousness before meaning where truth resides and reflects.

This is what I learned today - complexity is not only unnecessary but counter-intuitive. Life is simple, because there is only one truth. Trying to explain, analyse, understand this, is making nothing out of everything. I had been skipping rungs on the ladder of reaching people, believing myself able to simply go to the 'meaningful' shit without going through the 'chit-chat'. Yet I see it everyday, 'chit-chat', on Facebook, on the street, on TV, among people I know. I do it, too, but there's situations where I somehow believe myself capable of transcending it, but all I'm really agreeing to is a more complex version of chit-chat, one which I'm supposedly better at because I can speak formally and write poetry and think about different perspectives. But this stuff, even at this level, doesn't mean shit. It's just advanced chit-chat. Shit-shat. Sometimes there is truth being pointed to, yes, but mostly it's just an egoic attempt at feeling superior to others because I'm so darn special and capable of speaking in such rhetoric that you can either awe at or participate in. You don't get to know me better that way though, you just get to know my ego.

Bullshit. People are people, not fulfillment-givers. And if we are all one, then we are all connected to each other anyway. Talk is just a way of becoming aware of that connection. Shit-shat is a fancy way of asserting I'm better than you. Which I am not, but my ego's suicidally argumentative. But I'm not my ego. I am not bitter as a host for the insane. I'm simply there.

That's what I want confirmed anyway though, that you're there, when I talk to you. I try to be there when you talk to me. Sometimes I'm out back watching my ego shit-shat with your face, and my attention's swiped. I have this big idea that when you talk to me I'm going to have an epiphany and you're going to give me the answers to the problem that I've labelled 'life'. And if we do get to have a heart-to-heart, it'll be idyllic and wonderful, and we'll be vulnerable but strong (but it will be more of an ego-to-ego, permissibly self-conscious only because one ego believes the other to be more flawed than itself).

I'm just trying to understand this, that's all. Or am I? I don't know. I'm still shit-shatting.

Addiction To Thought

This has occurred to me several times, but perhaps it's now becoming clearest. I am addicted to thinking, and having seen what addictions can do to people, both indirectly in the media, and directly in the people that surround me, I've attempted to stay away from such external things so as to lead a more balanced life, perhaps set an example to others so that they themselves can see that they don't have to live that way. And perhaps it appears fine, from the outside, but from the inside it has not been the same peaceful picture of perfection.

The truth is, I struggle with thinking because it is my drug. It is strange to call it that because it isn't exactly some substance I feed on, but it's one I know I'm addicted to because it's so difficult to stop it. Even writing this is made difficult by the desire to make it sound good so that it can be read by people and understood and appreciated. But I will attempt to simply let my thoughts flow like a stream of consciousness, without feeding the need to be special.

Thinking is addictive. It gives me a quick-fire feeling that I am doing something. It validates me. Just like receiving a text or receiving a Facebook notification, a thought reminds me that I am alive, and there is something to acknowledge. Often, these thoughts are not positive, because if they were they would not be a bother and they would not come seemingly incessantly. I could describe it as a bombardment of sorts, thoughts coming in and landing without much care as to where, in my field of attention. As each one appears, it demands I listen to it, and if it sounds remotely believable in what it is about, it joins the cycle of consideration where it says what it says and then I hardly have time to decide if it's true or not because there's another thought on its way, usually on the same wavelength. This happens with negative thoughts.

An example: I often get the thought, when I go on Facebook, that other people's lives that I see pop up in my news feed, either through photos or through status updates or just conversations, are much richer and funner than mine. I cannot prove this, and I would not prove this, because it's a comparison based on nothing but my own feeling of inadequacy with my own life, that I'm not good enough in the eyes of others or that I'm not really worth their time because they clearly aren't having that fun with me. When I get this thought, my mind shifts into a sort of 'victim-mentality', where I tell myself that others have not looked at me honestly and considered me for what I am worth, i.e. they have judged me for what I am not. This necessarily implies that I have been attacked by them, in my mind, often taking the form of abandonment feelings or perceived exclusion. This is a lie, of course. I cannot possibly know if those faces that come up on the news feed would ever think like this, and even if they could, I doubt I'd ever done anything to deserve such cruel punishment. But my mind, enslaved in its dreams of doom, chooses to not to doubt the dream's reality and pursues an agenda of thought that reinforces the pain I feel. And so, I get thoughts that say I am unworthy, followed by ones doubting whether I really matter to the people that know me, whether my being in their lives really has any meaning beyond appearances. The thoughts usually center around particular individuals who my mind sees as worse enemies because they have betrayed my trust in not giving me the attention that I desired. They don't deserve this, not by any means. I recognise this now, because I am calm, yet in the moment, it is not as easy to discern this truth from the wall of lies that consistently put me down and swallow my attention. The impression remains once I get off the computer, kept alive by the talking in my head, telling me I'm not good enough. And I, well, believe it.

It isn't true. I tell myself this yet I wish I would believe it. There is still a part of me, that refuses to accept that even though people are not 100% in contact with me all the time, they have not abandoned me. I feel this too often though, and it is strengthened through a domino-effect of thought after thought of negative affirmations. In the case of this thought, many different reactions are possible - one could simply dismiss the thought and laugh at what it says, though I fear to do that due to not wanting to risk my pride swelling. One could indulge in drink/food/alcohol/substance in order to take their mind off the thinking. I chose avoid the ceasefire so as to drive myself insane via an internal war, a war of voices and shouting. Thoughts come and fight against other thoughts to decide on truth, as if truth hadn't already been decided. But it's like they don't want to know the truth, they just want to fight amongst themselves because at least in this way they seem to have meaning, even for the short while while they're causing me suffering.

I'm addicted to the thoughts because I don't know yet how to decide what is true and what is false. "A Course In Miracles" says that is not my job to decide, and I would graciously accept that, if I didn't believe that my ego needed to know things and could know such things too. But it in itself is false, so it'll never tell me the truth anyway. The arguments for keeping it are absurd and do not work, yet they are kept because they are kept hidden in my mind, away from the eyes of others and away from mine too. What would I do if I'd lost my ego? I'd probably live a much happier life anyway, free of cares and worries. But, there's a but. I'd have no secrets, no need for them. No shame. No embarrassment. No barriers. And thus the ego would have no meaning, and without meaning, my existence would be... meaningless? I am more than my ego, but my ego says it is necessary for functionality in this world. I don't wholly believe that, but I believe it more than not, since I haven't yet been proven otherwise.

Thinking is a form of security, protection. Against what? Against being taken over, against the reality that I'm not really in control of my life. Yet this protection limits my potential so so enormously that life becomes a scrap of damaged experiencing. Not worth it, I've told myself sometimes. I need to stop this thinking. I need to. Must. And I don't know how, but I need to do it, otherwise I won't be able to connect with anyone or anything because I'll always be blocked off by illusions and pain.

So in writing this, is my question, my call for help to God, the universe. I am here, not of this earth, but on it, for some purpose. I do not know what it is, though I could think about it and not find it. The truth is, I resort to thinking too often because I don't trust in the connection I have with You. That's to say, I don't trust You. I want to though, because I sure ain't happy trusting in myself and my personal version of hell. Help me out. I want release from my illusions and I want to see the world as it is, others as they are. I need to let go of my thoughts in order for this to happen, and I envision that will be soon, at this rate. Please be there to catch me, with a cloud or something, then take my hand, firmly, and show me the way back to You.

Shades

In my ego's world view, only things that matter deserve full attention. And the criteria for that is incredibly strict - everything has to be serious and important and has to have a great impact on all of humanity. It isn't that way, but that's the way I see it and that's the way it appears. Yet I squirm when 'big' events happen, and avoid them, because I don't want any harm done, I just want something to talk about, something to impress upon someone else. And saying this makes me feel off, because I don't really want it anymore. Seeing it only invites pain and hurt into my consciousness puts me off having it as a perspective.

Why so serious? A question. Lies. Good answer. What I feel the world is about and what it means isn't what it really is. I just saw a TED talk on "being wrong" and it reminded me that this type of thinking is wrong, because it sees a problem everywhere: out of any situation there is something to solve and all the little details, the ordinary miracles, are missed because they just don't 'seem' to impact the world that much. It's like a focal choice: to see what is there but not really what is there. The world view unconsciously filters what it sees to limit it to what it wants to see - events or things that can be exaggerated and 'seriousified' so that they can be 'fixed' by me. This is my ego's way of seeing things. It's not how it is.

How it is. That's what I'm moving towards. And it's not a way of seeing that comes from me, as if it was it would just be a different pair of my ego's shades. No, this sight is given to me, not needing further interpretation, not needing defense, as it sees everything forgiven. That, is what I want. To see everyone as they are, without judgment. To see through egos, to see through mistakes to the sameness that resonates within everyone.

Idyllic, says my ego. Truth, according to God.

My Resignation

I see the fear of being abandoned, of being lost and excluded from the circles of the people I look towards and see as my family and friends. I am pushed away, and no one says anything. I can't fulfill their expectations, especially because none of them are willing to show me how. Maybe no one knows, but I believe they all do; they just refuse to tell me I'm a wretch, a should have but didn't, a should be but isn't. They all walk over me and don't look back. But still within earshot, they laugh amongst themselves, shadows painted right over this feeble doormat that I am.

I hear the fear of what they say about me. It makes it hard to trust because I hear my own thoughts sweat and brood and plot endlessly (seemingly) a way out, escape from the death sentences these people utter about me. Their thoughts of rejection are loud. They don't want me near them. They don't make an attempt to understand me, to see me as I am, because they can't accept that I do hurt.

I think the fear of not being liked, and conveniently, of not being told there is something wrong with me. It comes paired with the belief that there is something wrong with me. I am wrong. Listen to it in my mind. I am scared the stuff my mind is telling me is actually true. I am so wrong, no one dares tell me. Yet they all fuck silently over it and glance with their minds into mine, shooting darts of spite. They keep me apart from all they do. I want to be included, and they shun me, backs turned, unwilling to let me in. No redemption.

What did I do?
It's who I am.

I fear their judgment. I fear that I am not good enough. I fear I have lied to them, and they cannot overlook that to find the truth in me. I fear that truth is a lie, and they can see it clearly, but I hold on to it.

I feel the fear. This is the worst, because this feels like the proof to all that they do, that I deserve this. Hurt. Abandonment. Exclusion. Silence. Poison. Breathlessness. No reason. No forgiveness. Hate. What a hated bastard I am.

I fear all this will come true. I fear this is more than just writing. I fear it has momentum, and will invade my life and spin it out of control and into death's eager hands. Then I'll have lost. As if I hadn't lost by now.

I quit. Behind some attempts at poetry, is honesty. These are my reasons for quitting. Life's not worth it if all of this is true. It's not worth it if any of it is true, actually, because the possibility of one makes the rest seem real. All this has come about because I have listened to my mind religiously, trusting it that it was telling me the truth, even when it made me hurt badly because sometimes the truth hurts. I believed it when it said it wasn't my fault, that it was all their doing.

Fuck it. I listen to my heart, and you know what, all I can hear is its beating. No shit about anything, it just does what it does. And it's quiet. The mind replays recorded messages about guilt and disharmony and weakness and powerlessness, all on fear's album, out now. My heart is kind, and at least, honest enough to let me know about the shit I've been putting up with. Yes, I am scared I won't be accepted for sharing my fears, for shining this light. I admit it. But I choose the path already laid for me before me, not the rickety road nowhere I made.

This is where I let go.

Merci.

Trying To Understand Life

Settings and design
in appropriate proportions
are spun out
longingly
by me ego
when he tries to rule
the world that he made up.

When I, the holder of the atlas,
page through the cartography,
I sometimes laugh,
when I can tell these are maps
that have been drawn by him.
Yet when I can't,
when I forget he painted this picture,
I get lost in it
and it's a whirlwind's journey across creation to get out,
until I do,
miraculously,
when I'm reminded that
what I am scared of
is what I made of
misunderstanding how life works.

And no, I still don't know.
But I might not need to
while I can still flick through
and laugh.

When I Asked Who Didn't Know

So I sat there thinking about being,
answering a lifetime's question
in one moment of one night.
Clarity would dawn upon me as
I let myself be lead by the hurried
hand of one kamikaze thought.
Quickly,
he said moved
through memory
as lightning struck outside the window,
inside my chamber of secrets revealed.
Come, and I did
through amazing eyelashes you're gay brainbox
angel good attempt idiot crazy gay dux
cool accent where are you from gypsy in the back of my mind
don't judge me victim my best friend sick
one of the kindest always says bitch little girl
mama is that like Rome sooooooooo smart anxious
sinner him too nerd effeminate awesome
never be left behind easy doormat door
guilty positive good with words hypersensitive
disgustingly cute Pengu overthinking
controlling liar Son of God gay
couldn't deliver disappoint empathetic Protoss
French economic historian writer
so sorry there for you ego lost wrong
and then I ran out of breath,
having chased memory to the bolt that held its chains.
He turned around, looked at me
with unfeeling
and left me with all these answers
in the dark to find the answer.

Request For A Second Chance

To you,

I am writing to you right now. The timing doesn't seem to be very fitting, after you packed my own bags for me and threw them into me and pushed me out the door.

You say I stayed too much inside and made a mess. Well, I won't deny that, but I never think of it as mess - more like creative expansion... or child's play. You know I'm right, so I don't see why you're sending me away. After so many years together, so much we have been through. Yes, you've gotten mad at me before and recently you told me how fed up you were with my antics. But we used to have such fun times, when we were both younger, we played so many games. I loved spending that time with you. And now, just because we've arrived at yet another obstacle in our relationship, you tell me you've had enough. Please... you've said that before and never actually kicked me out. After all, you are a forgiving soul, so even though I said a thing or two about the people in your life that you might not like, you know I must be right.

In case you're wondering, I don't take it back. I'm not angry you've closed the door on me, I know you'll let me back in. Then we can continue having fun together. I've pitched a tent in the void outside. I'll wait until you gather your senses.

Be quick! Don't let the present get in the way of our past times and possible future!

I'll be here.

Love you lots,

xoxo
Your ego

Unmasked: My Three Faces

I play a social game. When I do, I am lying. I just became conscious of how much I do it. I'm not alone in doing it, but others doing it is totally missing the point here. In this play that stands for life, I act as a victim, as a rescuer, as well as a prosecutor. These are the three main faces of my ego. I am slightly ashamed to admit that, but I can only see that becoming aware of how I act will help me become a better person, the best me.

# Victim
"I want love. I need love. Please give it to me. I need help. I am lonely. I am sad. I am hurting. I am in pain. Please help my lonely soul. Please give me what I ask for. I don't deserve happiness. I am useless. The world is better off without me. Give me attention. Feed me. I need your sympathy. Pity me. I can't do this, do it for me. No one likes me. It's all my fault. I am an idiot. I don't see how the people around me can take my crap. I should rot. I should die."
When I wear this mask, I am the victim of the world. I act, and I feel, that the world is against me, that I am lonely and that nobody loves me. It is an unconscious way of asking for love because it acts from a place of lack. Whenever I am the victim, the role I play is one where I project an image of disappointment to those around me so that they can comfort me and desecrate that image. I desire to be loved, yet I must hurt myself, diminish who I am, to get that love? I must tear myself down before I can be built back up. The essence of the victim is the imagining and projection of a need or a lack towards someone else who can save me.

# Rescuer
"I'll help you. Call me anytime you need. I am here for you always, until the end of time. You can count on me. Anytime. You're welcome. I will always love you. You always have my back. I am here for you no matter what. I will save you! I want to be the hero. Don't kid like that, I didn't save your life. Your life is worth more than mine. I will die for you!"
This should not be confused with the true feeling of wanting to help someone. But that true feeling comes from the healing recognition that the perception of the victim is incorrect, because in truth they are not broken. So rescue in that sense is the correction of perception, the reawakening of awareness of light. That, I gladly do and will continue to do, for it is natural.
This mask is due to me wanting to help others because I can't seem to help myself with my own internal problems. It is defined, in essence, by sacrifice, which my ego feels is righteous and pure. This is a misperception. As a rescuer, I look for the pain in people, for the hurt in their own lives at my personal expense. I want to help them only because after helping them, they will somehow validate my own existence. The mask comes with glasses because they make people appear broken, needing to be fixed. In this state, I refuse to perceive my own lack and attempt to bring out others' lack so that I can fill it. But in my lack, I cannot fill nothingness with nothingness.

# Prosecutor
"Fuck you. Loser. Idiot. Bastard. You suck. You are horrendous. You don't know anything. There's smarter people out there. Dumb shit. I would be better off without you. I don't want to listen to you complaining. I don't want to know what you want to tell me. Why are you talking to me? You are annoying me! Go die!"
This mask normally comes with the emotion of anger or negativity. I feel I have been attacked, so I attack whoever back. I wear this mask lightly, because I don't pick fights with people, certainly not directly. But it is also characterised by envy and other forms of jealousy. This mask comes with an imaginary gavel, too. It reignites drama. It is used to increase my sense of superiority or make me feel less inferior. In essence, once more, it comes out of lack. A fear response is triggered so I feel the need to defend myself. The best defense is a good offence? That's probably the principle at work. I have to be the best, and to feel that way, I have to diminish the rest around me. Yet I meet resistance, unsurprisingly.

As one may have realised, none of these faces satisfy or fill the gaps they imagine. The ego never does, never will. Switching between my masks gives the illusion of progression, but it is only until I have taken them off now that I can truly see.

I am so glad, thankful and blessed that the people around me do not always play these games with me. It sort of infuriates me that I do play them, but there is only room here for forgiveness. If I stay angry, I am prosecuting myself, which turns then into a victim mindset, and later maybe into a rescuer. There is no way to stop acting unless I take off the masks. And I know I only did it because I thought it was necessary to my happiness, but I thought wrong. I think right, now. I only have one face.

I may have hurt you in the past, I am sorry. I was not myself. Realisation has come, so as I get off running life on auto-pilot, please know that I am awakening. I am going to find the light in me, and I am going to see the light in you, both of which will increase the light in both of us.

As It Is, It Remains

No hearts can break.
No stones can shake.
No love can kill.
No death can will.
No light has passed.
No wind has grasped.
No hate has flown.
No peace has blown.

No hearts can truly mend.
No darkness can transcend.
No stories are told.
No present is old.
No fear is meant.
No fire is sent.
No shadows are paved.
No ego is saved.

No hearts are torn.
No grace is born.
No silence is shattered.
No pieces are scattered.
No hurt is real.
No pain can feel.
No truth is a lie.
No life can die.

And the rest is silence.

On The Same Bridge, In The Same Boat

Love gets you nothing.

If I were to leave that be, you might feel as if you had been struck by a pessimistic and/or depressed bolt of emotion. But, there is a continuation.

Love gets you nothing, it gives you everything.

We talk about love as if it's the most cliché cliché and yet the most sought after thing in the world. It's everywhere, yet we look for it in places we can't find it. This does not make sense. And it is upon this realisation that I have stumbled upon with the help and guidance of "A Course In Miracles."

To paraphrase "Entre les Murs", "Je ne sais pas pourquoi nous faisons ce que nous faisons." I could say it in many ways but possibilities are endless, and certainty, quite frankly, is certain. I am going to talk now from what I have learned.

We build bridges to the world. We climb mountains, proverbial and otherwise. We overcome adversity. We compromise. We seek out a life purpose. We search for other people. We search within people for similarity. We push other people away by shutting our eyes at their similarity. We form groups. We exclude, but we want to be included. We have arrived at a point where we exclude to include, which doesn't make sense. We go to war. We blame somebody else for an illusory reality that lies in our own heads. We shove guilt down someone else's throat because we don't want our own illusory crap because it's illusory crap. We use colloquialisms to fit into society. We conform to convention to be included. We exclude those who do not fit into the social conventions. We envy those who do not fit into the social conventions. We fight those people. We fight each other. We laugh at each other. We feel wronged by the world. We seek to be accepted. We seek to be at peace. We attack other people. We want our peace to come to us. We push our peace away. We look at each other and choose to ignore what we see in the mirror. We bombard the surface of the world, of other people. We dig into the core of weakness. We fashion masks to protect our egos. We fail at succeeding to find what we really want. We succeed at failing to see the truth. We see each other and ourselves as torn and confused and shattered and tired and bruised and wounded and pathetic and apathetic and hopeless and surpassed and distraught and shocked and mournful and lost and forgetful and ignorant and insensitive and obnoxious and stubborn and unmoving and unbending and gluttonous and defiant and disrespectful and scared. We don't know what we are doing and why we are doing what we are doing. But we know one thing. We want to be whole. We want to rise up and rejoice and be present and joyful and meaningful and at peace and to embrace synonymy.

We think we are alone, but we are not. We think we are hurt, but we are not. We think we are cursed, but we are not. We think we are worthless, but we are not. We think we are nuisances, but we are not. We think we are better, but we are not. We think we are worse, but we are not. We think we are unloved, but we are not. Amidst this confusion, lies the truth. We all want the same thing and feel the same-sized love-shaped gap within ourselves.

The gap is not there, and we realise it is not there by testing it. Not by feeling sorry or guilty or ashamed or depressed at our seeming incompleteness. We know love, by doing things that require love. By being who we are and letting others be who they are. Those bridges are made of love. We are lost, which means we have simply forgotten, so we must remember. We do this by giving. Love is for giving. Love is forgiving. Love is everywhere, but we look for it as if it weren't there. But it is. Open your eyes. I am standing in the same boat as you. We are sailing on the same sea. And I am glad we are on this journey together.

Split Mind Spill

I am not in any way special and it's not in the way I dot my i's or draw the tails of my y's and g's and j's that you can see this. I am addressing you because I don't want to bother anyone else with how I feel. But I do need to say what I will so here goes. In advance, thank you for being, here and everywhere else that is here.

There is no one else. Or there is only everyone else and no me. Yes, it's fucked up, this perception, but I have to unravel its not so I can move on. Hold on through these metaphors, please.

I don't understand things anymore. Being happy, laughing, talking, dreaming... all ephemeral things. I meet with friends and we talk and we laugh and I put on a face that doesn't give much away... I kind of like it that way - locked in prison keeps me out of everybody's way. But that said, I, I, am still here. I can accept that this is my defense mechanism, my protection which I place before everybody else like a filter so that my shielding is justified and so that I can say to myself that there is a real reason why I am acting this way but that I don't want to reveal that reason to anyone lest they crush me in their judgment. Yes, it's misperception, I can tell. That said, I don't wholly believe it is, so here I am canvasing it so I can see it, and realise it, and receive the answer I am asking for. And I'm not checking Facebook while I type this. But if everything is fleeting because it's unreal, what the fuck is the point of being here, relating to people, encountering, crossing paths et al. What? I am convinced there is a point - something I should let go of lest I try to find it and desecrate nothingness into more nothingness. If I go searching in this split-mind state, I will not find peace. This point that I am meaning, is not necessarily a cliché of a life purpose, but some direction, some way that doesn't involve emphemerality, sadness, being upset, lost souls, loneliness, envy, abandonment, jealousy, drama... something that appears metaphysically like truth or love but that actually is here. I know it's already here but I need to KNOW it. I still hope that there is that. It must be, after all is said and done, something like that there. So what must I do to reach it? "A Course In Miracles" says it's already here and has always been and will always be. How have I become so lost if the answers are right here?

Am I always looking away but never here? The answers are never anywhere else but here? I can accept that, but I need, again, to KNOW it.

The truth is, I've been hoping for things, for selfishness to go away. There's this fix I have with attention. I see reflections of it in my life currently. People that want my attention for a heart-to-heart conversation or for help with their assignment... they get my attention, because I give it to them. People that exhibit a thirst for attention, that don't stop seeking when I tell them to, that maybe are addicted to it... they also get my attention, although in a limited form because I get defensive too and put up a shield that could be referred to as ignorance. Where do I go from here? Because, I'm currently starving myself of attention, knowing that because I'm not getting it, I'm not feeding my ego. Subsequently I am becoming quite depleted and lonely, because without my ego sucking up attention from others, it's dying in abandonment. And these are the feelings that I feel: loss, doubt, abandonment, loneliness, jealousy of others who gain attention... I feel like no one really needs to listen to what I have to say because me saying anything will be my call for attention. This could be as well. But what I really really want, is assurance - to know that what I am going through will pass. The way out will reveal itself when it is time for it to be revealed. Now, I am witnessing the self-destruction of ego and it feels like it's killing me too. But it's not.

Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

I'm sure if I ask my friends about aid in helping me they would be supportive. But I don't want to do this because it would be attracting attention which will satisfy my ego... Not yet. I don't want to be selfish. I don't want the attention. But my ego does. But my ego doesn't exist. My feelings are but residue which I believe in. So how do I let it go? I have asked and have received.

A Lesson In Truth

I find myself wanting to be the hero. The savior. The righteous. The one that deserves all the attention. The one that has the others gasping in amazement. The strong. The one that the others raise up and thank for aid in time of need. The ego.

In the Bible, there is this verse in the book of Matthew, "For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted." Words that indicate to me the simple truth that by making myself appear as someone great, worthy of all glory and power, I would in fact be projecting out an image, an illusion, which will be ultimately humbled, reduced to the nothingness it is. Yet to humble myself first does not mean to make myself appear worthless - and the exalting that results does not come out of lack. On the contrary, humbling oneself is a recognition of truth, of completeness, of not needing more to be. And when one is true, one shines. The darkness, the absence, is dispelled; rather it is recognised as unreal. The exalting then is not one built on the crumbling foundation of want, but one rooted within love. And love is who I am. I am no hero, no savior, no one that deserves all the attention, no ego. I am whole within.