Discomfort is reality, reality is boundless

I miss my friends sometimes. I hear of people hanging out with their own friends and it reminds me of my own friends, the friends I left, the friends I never truly had, the friends that were never really mine. The friends who really weren't even friends in the end. I guess thats why I left, I didn't know how to be the friend they wanted me to be. They weren't the friends I thought they were, and I guess its my fault for thinking of them in any particular way to begin with. Who am I to tell them who they are or have to be for me, thats why I left, because I prefer that they be themselves rather than someone else. I felt because it was the only thing I could do being their friends. It was the last best thing I could do for them. Sometimes you just have to let go of people you love. Sometimes its the only thing you can do. I don't know if I could have done things differently, I don't know if given my situation I could have done anything at all differently. I feel cursed. Like a pirate, cursed for life. Like I'm living a nightmare and I can't wake up, like I'm sleepwalking through my life, and nothing can snap me out of it, like I'm helpless. Like everything that happens in my life is out of my control. Like I have no control. Like my life is a large hole of void emptiness, that lacks any real substance. Like numbness is my state of being, like a sense of existance, is the biggest challenge to realize. And imagine not even having a sense of existance, like you're a souless lifeless void of space, just existing, never really living. Its more than reality, more than sanity, its clarity.

That void, that space of nothingness, that feeling of numbness, and that struggle to find a sense of self, that is real. That is the only thing that's real. Nothing else. Imagine if this were life. Would you live it? You wouldn't have a choice, living it you find the real joys of life. Its amazing to a real extent. You value the little things. There is no other way to describe it.

In all of this what I miss the most is my mind. Living is the only cure for life. I'm so tempted to make this blog private, because a part of me feels embarassed for being so convoluted, I feel responsible for putting mess out there, for leaving this as an open source for someone else's mind to get corrupted in. Its sort of dark, and deep, and uncomfortable, and not at all a happy frolic in the meadows, but a huge aspect of living, is accepting yourself, for all the nooks and crannies of your darkness, lightness, and all the inbetweens. So where better to start than this uncomfortable feeling I'm feeling right now. I'll live with it. 

Randomness is the essence of living

I made this blog public for a change. Whats the point of hiding your entire life, who really sees you anyway. People only see what they want to see, so who the hell cares, be yourself, inside out, its probably the only way to truly live anyway. We hide to protect, we protect from fear, fear of being hurt, taken advantage perhaps, or fear of possibly connecting with another human being. Its funny how there are millions of people in this world, each suffering in their own ways.You'd think with so many of us brilliant smart people, we find a way out of it, we find a way to extract peace out of the madness, love out of the fear, and happiness out of the hardships, yet here we are, day in and day out, reliving our madness, as if this is life.

Is there really such a thing as peace, such a thing as love, or such a thing as happiness, or are they simply words we created for states of minds, we have experienced. What if all those things, are a consequence of the madness we call life. I had a friend ones, who talked about going deeper into the rabbit hole. I never quite understood what he meant, until I became like that. Until I saw life for its infinite possibilities, which it in a large essences is, our only roadblocks, are ourselves, our close ones, and everyone else. Is there really a way out? You would have to outsmart, or fight through every single person, or you can simply be you. Who are you anyway, without others.

If you were the only person to exist in this world, who would you be? Would it even matter?

So then who are we with everyone, just living, breathing parts of nature. And when we look at it that way, our life is perfect, as it is, in line with nature, we are perfect in our misery, we are perfect, in the patterns, and delusions or reality. Because we are nature, and this is what happens, when nature goes out of wack, we remain natural, only there is no such thing as peace, happiness, or love, we have existing, being, doing, and living.

If my posts are deep or overwhelming maybe it just is, existing, with no real meaning at all. Perfect as it is.