madison just said "eighteen... eighty-one." there was no external stimulus present to prompt it. i was reading skittle's post "meanings" on the blog "12:34." funny, random, all that wondrous stuff.
specificity eludes me. color is absent. monochrome, intangible absolutes are all i am aware of. i've got this hypothesis (based on past experience) that i'll not feel the in between unless engaged by some reciprocal; a light source through which to view the aspects of light as it travels and i remain still or as i travel through its stillness.
i heard that the girls will be going to their grandmother's "this summer;" i dunno when that is, but i'm going back to the canyon, then. come along if you'd like; i've still got to figure out transportation, or just wind up rolling without a plan of any predetermined sort.
i'm wide awake. and my third eye is tightly shut. all i can do is remember love and truth and the all; it's a "that," now - a promise that saves me succumbing to despair, but not the experience of the waves within the ocean that is despair. angst. boredom. loneliness. confusion. frustration. apathy. i know hope; i don't feel it. i know i love; i don't feel it. i know there is a way to interpret it all as beauty, but i'm not in alignment with that perspective. monochromatic; plain; lifeless; loveless - and what's it mean that i want the something else? something i cling to and release and erase my definition of. something that's not something else, but me and.. and whatever else it is that defies description. i let go. i am, but impurities exist, baffling me and efforts and the effort to relinquish effort. i chose to be here; now i can't leave. fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck!
somebody save me in the way only i can save myself. somebody point it out to me; i can point others to it, but it's conceptual to me, now; the between has become unfamiliar. help. me.
white mother wolf, visit me, please! please! please? i abandon my stupid knowing better. i don't know anything. you're out there. you're in me. where am i? damn this!
every time i look at the clock, there's some non-specific meaning in the sequence. 11:44, right now. i remember seeing mile marker 568 and wondering, "where's the '7'?" and i remember the answer being "well, i'm seven; i'm the lack i perceive, the piece that completes my perception." i am the balance of my perspective; all i perceive is the balance of me. fuck this knowledge, barrier to being. i'm stuck knowing being. i just want to be being. i need some relief. solace. peace.
god? God? i'm addressing You. help me, please. i abandon my self image. i abandon correctness. i'm lost. bleat. bleat! bleat!? bleat motherfucking bleat!!!
damnit. damnit.
respite. respite. respite. i'm lost. i'm stuck. i'm lost. i'm stuck. i'm lost. i don't remember anything but that encapsulated truth, Truth encapsulated. can i please break it open? temporarily? can i dive in? push me in! i don't remember how to jump. i keep looking for the edge to throw myself over. it's barren, here. i'm barren, cluttered with nothing. full of emptiness - pieces of it, obstacles, garbage, baggage, tethers. i'm gulliver, my thoughts lilliputians. burn them all into nonexistence; let the heap of gathered ashes await me, for later - now, though, let me be at peace! please!
i'm begging you, here, in these words, through this unpublished blog entry, within my flesh and mind and all i command - i relinquish. i let go. i don't want anything i have or am. i'll pick up the yoke, or welcome its replacement, some other time. please, i don't want to be this. not right now. i'm sorry. please. unburden me. let me be free for a while, so the memory's more fresh.
and, if that's not to be, so be it. let your will be my will, Father, Mother, God, Universe, All Knowing All Being. i love you.. i know i do. i love me; i know that, too. i love everything - why don't i feel it? i can't imagine a purpose. i can imagine a purpose that i can't imagine, my inability to imagine it being a part of its purpose or a necessity for its delivery.
i'm not happy right now, though. you know that. i'll suck it up until sweet death.
i'd really like some respite, though. i'd like to be what i pretend to remember.
am i faithless?
again?
i love you.
Peace
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