slipping in between the spaces
You know the spaces I am talking about, the spaces in time, filled with silence, when you say something that seems to fit sooo right, but appears to be all wrong in definition. I’m not talking about trying to assuage a situation, but when you say something because to not say it hurts too fucking much.
I have spent a good deal of time finding those spaces, manipulating people into them for fun, for awakening, and really, just because.
I swear someone is kharmicly vomitting all over me. I FUCKING try to do a job, do it well, give a fuck about it, but I just suck at it. I am so good at soo many other things, but cannot sell gym memberships. I told this guy who, for some reason, recognized something special in my energy a few months back. July, it was. He and his girlfriend signed up through me and he started talking to me about my expectations, for myself, my life, my negativity, and how powerful my (empasize quotes) “energy” was. I had to contain it, I had to control it, I had to reclaim it. I read the books he suggested, I had been going to the healer he wanted me to as well. It’s funny, but I told him something I don’t really tell anyone. He was by the juice bar, and he asked me if I had calmed down (I was a wreck when he walked in). He said some shit about me having to make a choice to suffer forever, or fix it. Because I am paying back some shit I did in my past life. WHATEVER. Either way, I told him I had this guilt. Like maybe I killed someone in a past life. Whatever I did was wrong. I totally admit it. I murdered someone somewhere long ago. He told me when I told him that it was like deja vu. He made this remark that I had to learn the lesson in this one so I wouldn’t have to come back and learn it ALL over again. Implying that if I didn’t, I would do it again.
These are the kinds of things that seem to happen in my daily life. Dreams or not, there is some crazy little fairy tale to it all. My dreams at night lock everything together in some strange little finger trap. Be it a maze, a fucking cartoon, the fucking joke’s on me.
I’m angry, I’m hurt. I’m all the things you need to be, and really much much more. I’m tired. I don’t even know if I am depressed or just pissed off anymore. The line has gotten that foggy, that thin. I have never been on medication for anything, and even if this is the way it’s supposed to be, the pain is almost too sweet to let slip away. Maybe that’s what it’s all about.
Stream of consciousness. Tired. FUcked up. Hating. I just wanna dream forever. I fly almost every night. There’s something beautiful about being able to wash your reality away with the breaking light. About being able to lift up and fly away when you really want to. I do this all the time. It’s probably the thing I do the best.
