As we are

So many things to discuss. That is the nature of the crisis. So much untangling it doesn’t even make any sense otherwise. I am learning a lot of stuff as I let time pass by. As a matter of fact am letting time go me by. I am not rushing stuff anymore, period. Perhaps one of the hardest things with this exercise is to allow room for me to be who I am without pressure from society. Even at the cost of lying to society about the pressures they place or burden the living with. I just want to be me without the guilt of not being me. Or perhaps even more, to allow me to live a life in the now rather than allowing the current of the past or the what is supposed to be or having to deal with the accountant. The accountant, dear reader, is the one that tallies everything that you are not. A bad bastard at that he is.

Am not a beaver type. I don’t build damns to divert shit, I want my water to flow as smoothly as possible. Heck, I am not even listening to the impulses or the signals I receive from my erstwhile chemical unbalance though this chemical unbalance has been persistent in its many manifestations which I call with endearment as Illusions of grandeur.

I don’t seem to understand Scandinavian women to my detriment. I block or am blocked or who knows what I don’t care anymore, when the love happens I want it to be reals. I suppose that I am waiting for miss Right. I sincerely hope so. At times I think that the women I meet want something I am not willing to do anymore. It would seem that they want an animal produce rapture. I suppose am more intellectual in that respect. Intellectual and romantic para acabarla de chingar.

Seriously, there are so many things rushing through my head that it doesn’t make sense to even entertain the idea because in the end these flow of events are doomed to be memory fillers of a day gone and lost with no future at all. Are there going to be memories of my loneliness? Or is it even loneliness when I am fighting with every might in my soul to be tranquil and allow the smooth flow of the present course through me without hinders?

I am fighting to be me by myself, is that the problem? I don’t think so but I am struggling to allow to be myself in a world filled with people which seem hell bent in producing a mold of me other than that which I myself want. Damn struggle it is. But I suppose that the struggle hasn’t won any points, at the end of the day the remains of the fight are all mine.

Yes, surely I am a human and hurt but I don’t let the deep wounds physically alter the reality I live.

As of the future. Will I have company again in my life? I don’t know. At this point I surely don’t care anymore because I can only live the present as it is, and only live the now inasmuch as it allows me to take as much as I can in its purest and truest form without alterations at all.

Period. and here is the supreme tangle. I know what I repress lies in the sediment below the river. And yes, the sediment makes it self present through the thickness and sluggishness of its movements. This sediment then gets tangled with all the muck that runs trough it. The Chinese say many things about rivers, heck, the original humanitarians know what the mean when they say that eventually all your enemies will pass the river.

I suppose that looking upwards as one is untangled in the mucky waters is the only source of good there is for the soul and the flesh that constitutes the flesh because it feels darn good to hope, that tomorrow will be goddamn better and if it ain’t I can always look forward to the day that it will very well goddamn do and until that day gets here I will look at the currents from below the much and sediment as the waters drag me there to make me feel the flow of its existence.

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