New and Old

There might not be much point in counting the days anymore or noting the streaks, or even attempting to build one at all. So I'll let the dates take care of that. There might be some value in intention though. Writing down what you want to do doesn't have to be the same as lying to yourself. It depends on who you are when you write it, and what exactly you have written.

For me, writing down these feelings can be a form of meditation. Not just to unravel the convoluted thoughts or get some sort of practice, but to simply channel a thing into the present moment. Writing about a thought or feeling allows me to focus on it just a little bit longer. In that way, it can be wuite remarkable indeed. Just as a photographer clicks a moment to preserve it forever, I write down my experiences to stay with them, just a little bit longer.

There is one type of mediation that emoties the mind. It's meant to bring you peace and bring your focus to the present moment, to reality. It's supposed to compliment good mental health and keep you grounded, like an anchor, keeping your from starying away. But as someone who has a head so full it's absolutely brimming, ready to explode, I find it much more effective to write. To sit with the thoughts that come and go. To work through my emotions in my own time, giving each one the exact amount of time they require in order to disperse into the same abyss the came from. 

I remember how peaceful I felt last night after I finished writing that piece on cosmic meditation. I felt a satisfaction far beyond an orgasm, a full meal, or good shit. Then I had an exquisite dream. One that was so deep, I forgot all about reality. It felt like, after a really long time, that I was somehow doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing. 

I must admit, though, I'd be lying if I said that I'm fine with the way things are. Even though I'm afraid to fall into the same cycle of extremes, I can't deny the fact that it comes naturally to me. It's fun to live on the edge, one way or another. Although at times when I feel sensible, I feel a sense of regret over my actions. Whenever I see my fellows excel, whenever I see someone in a relationship, I think they are so happy. Why oh why did I have to abuse myself so? Why must I have fallen so low? If only I wasn't so fat, so ugly, so poor, or stupid. If only I had studied harder, or stuck to my diet, or been a little more, normal. If only I had done the things I knew I should have, perhaps I'd be happy now. 

That's what comes to my mind every so often nowadays. But I tend to dismiss it before it can even be formulated. Because I would be lying even more if I said that I really do regret it. The truth is one which you, me, myself, and I are thoroughly aware of: we knew exactly what we were doing. We also knew that there will be moments of doubt and fear and regret later on. We did what we wanted anyway. Each time we fell, it wasn't a slip, but a head-first dive. We knew fully well what was in store, but we didn't care. You didn't, nor did I. And though we may feel ugly because of it, you and I also wished never to feel regret.

We chose not to feel regret way back when we became aware od ourself. We chose not to feel regret, because we had decided so. That is exactly the same reason why we have never thrown a tantrum in front of another, why we never berade anyone, or critisize them harshly. The reason we never hurt anyone on purpose or physically cause pain for someone. Why I haven't hurt or murdered anyone yet. Why I don't steal from people anymore. Because we know exactly what we are doing, all the time, you and I. We are beyond clever in those regards.

The sick pleasure we took in it was exactly because of those implications, and we fucking loved it. I should know, I was there. I remember thinking the worst possibilities, and going through with it anyway. Each step of the way. We'd be lying if we said we didn't want it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this. Yet, here I am, saying once again, that I want those self-destructive things no longer. After all this time and all those dives, I am daying that I want something else now. It's not even the opposite of the abuse. Because the opposite is just boring. I want a new kind of high, the best kind of high. 

Having tasted the depths of depravity, I want to taste a bite of heaven. Having known true self-hatred, I wish to ride the high of real pride. This is starting to feel like a trick I am trying to pull on myself, but it's just where genuine curiosity is leading me. There is no need to doubt my own nature. If I wish to stop masturbating, to know true celibacy, to build my muscles, and to eat healthy, I should know by now that I really mean it. I never did learn how to lie to myself. That quality of mine has turned out to be inescapable. Just like a bird or a wild animal I exist to fulfil my natural urges. I eat when I feel like and what I want to. I sleep when I want and for as long as I desire. I also fast, work, and exercise in the same way.

The mistake is to imagine that I could be anything else. I love myself and feel proud of this temperment at this moment. That should be the greatest source of pride when the world doesn't even batt an eye at me. When people look at me in disgust and choose to laugh. They belittle me, mock and redicule, often blatantly. They make fun of me, not knowing the god that lies beneath. I do not return their favor, knowing the same holy light shines within them, but they forget anyway. One day, they will regret it. Every one that knows me will be ashamed of their ignorance when the time comes. I feel sorry for the day that will happen. I feel sorry for their mistakes and hatred. I might be an irredeemable bastard, a monster of the worst degree, but at least I never stooped down to their level. In that, I take great comfort. You see, it's easy to live when you're this free. I should consider myself so lucky. 

The thoughts on this page as of a deranged lunatic, but even the enlightened seem insane to those who cannot hear the music to which they dance. I've never expected anything more of them, and that's exact why I chose to fall in such dismay. What's the use, I thought. Why struggle and strain, laboring away for the sake of those dullards. Why should I work, just so they can reap the benefits? That's where I made my real mistake. It was never about them. It has always been just as it is now, and how it will ever be. It will always be, all for me. From the biggest gamble to the highest highs. From the hardest battles to the quiet times. The long nights full or passionate reading and feverant writing. The hours of edging naked and smoking more that I could imagine. The long fasts teething the edge of starvation. The stuffing of my guzzler to the point of explosion. All of it was for me. All of it will be for me. There only ever was me, just as there only ever will be.

The lonliest I've ever been was in the company of others. So fuck em. Who needs em? Not me. Never have, never will. They say no man is an island. Either they didn't know this man, or I'm not one at all. Either way, I am happy. On to the next, onwards, upwards, and forwards.

Think again about what I want to do, before I leave for today. I am quite sick of mindless eating. I am sick also of mindless scrolling. What I want is to read and write. To write and to sweat. To starve and to wake. To sleep so deeply as to dream immediately, but wake more hours than humanly necessary.

It's quite simple really. A balanced meal, two times a day. Enough to stop the hunger, no more, no less. Enough sleep to keep me functional, seven hours should suffice. An hour or so of working out. Feeling the soreness in my muscles. And seven good hours or deep and focused work. I know I can do it because it's what I want. A lot of water, brushing my teeth twice a day, and keeping my things in order. Spending less and saving more. Sharing less and building more. Loving it all and hating all else. Less talking to people, more doing the work. Reading, writing, learning, growing, earning, and more of the same. 

That's all, nothing too crazy. They think you can't do it, that it's unnatural. But they never knew that I wasn't of this world.