Release

Flame in the Abyss

In often occurrences of those who write often, especially those that don't write out of habit, but write to release, we will often write about what upsets us, or leaves a negative emotion in us. Perhaps we are deep in thought, pondering over many variations of life, that when we catch a moment of sunshine, we don't write about it, we simply do our best to enjoy the happiness in the moment, as from my experience, this sensation of happiness quickly fades into sterile numbness. I wish I could be happy more often, but I've found myself playing with my perception of reality far too often, and doing my best to make sense of all this chaos. I don't truly understand why I do this to myself, but it's really just become who I am at this point. I've always been the type of person to be so hungry for answers, reason, truth. To the point of dissecting every possible detail that I can from something. Here I am, in this stage of my life where I've come upon various strains of thought, that are in all honesty, super fucking exhausting, and rather depressing. I've written a lot about consciousness, death, what is reality, and the answers that I've found are rather ambiguous. Giving this, I'm able to dive into the same and/or similar thoughts again and again, and I will frequently get different answers. At the same time, none of these answers are necessarily wrong, and many seem to be tied in with my perception of reality very accurately. Being alive for me right now, is rather terrifying. After the several trips I've had on psychedelics, I discovered so many answers. I learned more in that span of 2 months, than I had ever done before on a science basis. Now, let's be very clear, psychedelics in my life we're something I used as a source of untapped perception, though it never truly altered my past. The reason I'm sad, and the reasons that I'm happy, have nothing directly to do with psychedelics. Yes, they gave me and showed me answers that I wasn't always too happy with, or that raved my mind with the excitement to be alive and functioning. I developed extra emotions and empathetic functions that I would have been happier without, as this emotional straining knowledge that I gained can be intense, and very real. More real than any other emotions I've felt before, but incredibly scary, but still, knowledge in itself. I'm at this point of where I have so much information that needs to be processed, and I've been mostly processing it emotionally, as one's emotions are far more attached to feeling, rather than factual or science based information. It is quite scientific in how the brain functions, and our perception, but I can't help but feel very emotional about the answers I've found. An upmost beautiful sadness. Where I know in my mind, if my past was different, if my present was different, I wouldn't care to be in these states of thought, I could just be happy, and live happily. I've been so separated by others though, where I'm often not distracted by others, or influenced by others, I'm simply sedated by playing video games that I'm already good at, in constant deep thought, or writing, and learning new things on the side as well, but still very much emotionally controlled by my thoughts. Where many of my superficial thoughts, had their doors opened by psychoactives, and these doors went on and on, deeper and deeper, to emotionally living some of the most terrifying realizations that are a constant in this physical reality we are all in. Currently, the only moments of happiness I experience are either in this small moments of awe, while in settings of nature, or small realizations of self gratitude, being thankful for myself, and how I truly have done a lot, many unimaginable things, somehow I've done them. Though, I never give myself credit. I don't know why, but I'm always hungry for more, and more, it never ends. Not even to the point of greed, as it seems it's the one thing that drives me, but I want more new experiences. Wanting to the point of addiction, to the point of needing new experience until I'm ridden with madness as I've brainwashed myself that doing the same thing, might as well be death. I'm not learning anything new, I'm not doing anything to enhance myself in a profound way, I might as well be dead, I'll tell myself. I'm sure I'm far to harsh, but I desire some kind of excellence in my life, something beyond the everyday experience. I'm sure it's unrealistic, but I know that if I don't continue to pursue this unrealistic dream I have, I'll end up hating myself greatly, as I've let so much pass me by, I've given everything away, or let it slip before my grasp. If I'm to hold onto one thing, let me be my unrealistic dreams that are possible, that are also becoming the slow and slow outcome of my potential poverty. To dream so vast, where the opportunities do exist, I see them often, but are not yet in my life, where I'll possibly end up with nothing at all. The highest gamble of life, to have all or nothing. I don't know exactly what it is that I'm looking for. Perhaps liberty with myself, with others, to be loved, to have a family, to tell stories and read to the masses. Though, homelessness, is in an arm's reach of distance. The fact that I am still alive, and not homeless by choice yet; to save my pride, is beyond my understanding. There's an internal force that guides me, as it may sometimes seem that I am giving up, right on the edge, but I don't. A sudden burst of energy lifts me barely above failure, like a sudden gust of wind propelling a paper airplane back into the airspace that would have landed indefinitely if not.

The struggle to find purpose, or a reason to my finite existence. On that isn't bound to any family or organization, that has seemingly lost all that he once thought he had secured. Lonely, only with his never ending thoughts to accompany him. I've been hugging myself lately, as odd as that sounds, to embrace and tuck my chin angled into the right cup of my collarbone brings me comfort. To not be cared for emotionally, for all but a few months of my life, has left the permanent desire to be cared for. The motto of, "love yourself", doesn't seem to be well taken by someone who doesn't really know what it means to be loved or cared for. Sure, there are moments, of conditional providence from others, but I need metal and emotional care. Not only from my passive self that seems to show it's care by carelessly criticizing oneself in hopes of becoming better somehow. When I like someone, I give them all that I can, in thoughtless hopes that they will give that back. It's a costly gamble, it'll rid someone of all their emotional wealth, and physical stature. As it seems, I am running at an all time low, on both, extremely low. I give my possessions away, and even my money so freely, even when I shouldn't for my future's prosperity. I've given so much away, to the point of having, "just enough" and even then, I'm at the point of volunteering my life away, and quite satisfied with having no more expectations. Resulting in me having nothing to sustain myself with. Finding someone to care for this big baby, and finding a job in Conservation or nature just isn't in the cards for me right now. I feel so unlucky, so very unlucky, but again, it could be far worse, and there are little valuable gems that keep me going. Those that give me a moment of their time, to simply tell, listen, or read what I write, is my lifeline. I crave social interaction, but I'm in a world full of unconscious strangers. I'm that weirdo that's so desperate for connection, that I've been trying to start conversations with strangers, and gets ignored because perhaps it's odd to others, stranger danger, and concerning homeless people are everywhere here. I hate devices and this constant prejudice. The disconnect it's left on society, where people are habituated to only meet others through specific meeting sequences.
How fucking stupid.