neglectedneurosisandallIwantedwasforyoutostayandsayhi . . .
My emotional imbalance is getting worse. I can't control the way the tiniest things, in conjunction, effect me. I wish I could lay myself in/at/with the Lotus Feet. This Self is nothing but an empty vessel, and I can't take the small steps needed to keep me sAne.
"He became someone who really cared about-or deeply didn't care about who I was. Therefore, who I was began to wither. And the less I was of who I was, the better I felt." --Leonard Cohen
I tried to write yesterday, but I realised that it would never be good enough. Art is a worthless causa sui. My immortality vessel has always lain in the realm of the Romantic . . . but what can I do when those that are weaker than I only bore and irritate me, and when those that are stronger come along, I feel shame at trying to rest myself on their rooted selves? Camus is right . . . but where is my God-image?
Career . . . no.
Art . . . no.
Love . . . I will always wish.
But Aubrey is right, there is only one place to find the God-image I'm looking for. there is only one place to find the strength that is needed to break this passage of never-ending lowness. There is only one meaning, no matter how finite it is.
Take a look in the mirror.
Try again dumbass!