Watching Obsessively

Gud03

Thanks for watching me, outsider.
Some people freak out
at the thought of being watched
but not me.
On the contrary.
Knowing that you keep an eye on me
night and day excites me.

You know how lonely I feel down here.
No one seems to care.
Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.
Of course, many of them care,
but they can’t do anything for me.
I wouldn’t want them to sit and watch me anyway,
that would be creepy.

But for some reason I don’t mind if you do.
Probably because I know you.
Do you have a life apart from me?
No, I hear.
Your love keeps you bonded like a prisoner,
just like the body does for me.

Like a chicken that sits on her eggs,
you brood over me.
Your need to protect is obsessive.
Your one-track mind is unwavering.
You stalk all day, dreaming.
Like me, wondering…
When will he be ready?

You know I wish to break out of this hell
and throw myself under your spell,
but something is preventing me.
A voice tells me to be patient.
As I harden and grow,
the cage will crack open eventually.

In the meantime I try not to go crazy.
I often feel like I’m going to falter
and forget everything you told me.
It’s tempting to think
that life within this enclosure
is the only one for me.
But I remember
the infatuation
the impressions
and the letter.

Hell on Earth

I write

My body has a small defect that greatly affects the quality of my life “in the body.”

It’s sad how such a small glitch can ruin all the fun.

It’s not something that can be fixed or cured either.

A human body is meant to move. When we look at how the body is made, it’s obvious that it was made for movement. We are not plants.

Imagine if there was a defect in your body that would cause you to feel nauseous every time you moved. My body has this defect. The more I move, the more I feel nauseated, sickened and disgusted.

In time, a person who suffers from this defect becomes severely depressed. I was on a very high dose of antidepressants for many years, but in 2012 I realized that it was not worth it. An antidepressant can relieve depression but it cannot fix the source of the problem.

The medication actually caused more problems than it solved, so finally I decided that I would rather live with my physical defect than swallow one more pill.

I’m quite healthy but I can’t say that I am happy. I have a fit body. I can technically do any physical activity I want. The problem is I don’t want to. In order to feel good, I have to move as little as possible. I’m in a very weird kind of predicament!

The defect is called a balance disorder. It’s almost impossible to notice. I sit quietly all day, refusing to do almost any kind of physical activity, and people think I’m weird and negative. My family knows, but they keep forgetting, or sometimes I get the impression that they have no idea how I feel when I move.

If you ever wondered why I live inside my head, in a fantasy world with imaginary friends, now you know. What choice do I have? I get no pleasure from physical movement. Life in my body, in this physical world, to me is hell.

When Love Lies

Man Crying

My last true love almost obliterated me.

“True” love?
It could not have been true if it almost obliterated you.

Right. But I was convinced that it was true love. I married this love. I gave my life to this love. I gave my time, my efforts, my money, my body and my soul to this love. I gave my everything to this love. I never doubted that this love was not my true love. The result was near-annihilation.

You survived.

Thanks to you.

No, thanks to you!

I was near-dead, there was nothing I could do.

That is not exactly true.

What did I do?

You turned to you.

What do mean you?

Instead of turning to self-destruction, you turned to self-love.

Hmm…

Not everyone accepts self-love.

It took me many years though. Many years of agony. And even with this “self-love,” I am still hurt. I’m damaged. I’m unrecognizable. I’m socially extinguished. I’m dysfunctional. I’m disabled. I’m handicapped. I’m useless. I’m no good. I’m incapable of loving another human being again.

It’s perhaps not as bad as it seems.

Has this “self-love” made me a more loving person? Look at me now. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t trust humans. I almost hate them. And when I look into the mirror, I see one again. I almost hate myself. This self-love is a paradox. It doesn’t seem real. Sure, I did not kill myself, but there must be more to self-love than subsisting… and waiting… to die, so I can be with you.

You’re writing aren’t you?

All the time.

Then you’re doing something valuable. Everything you write is being recorded. You have no idea the impact that you are having on the universe.

Indeed, I have no idea. Thanks. Your words are encouraging. As always.

Celestial Partner

Gud01

I have what I could call a celestial partner.

He is very real to me and he is partly responsible for my metamorphosis. The other responsible part(ner) is me.

My celestial companion is currently my reason for writing and my reason for living.

I don’t talk about him openly because it’s an irrational idea. People would say that it is an unreal fantasy. And to live for an unreal fantasy is usually not recommended.

I saw him only once during an out-of-body experience in 2013. I thought I had died so perhaps it was a near death experience. At first I was sure that I was seeing God but I learned later that it’s not possible for us to see God. So perhaps he was my guardian angel, a son of God, or a spiritual being, I don’t know since he doesn’t have a title. I like to think of him/her as my divine partner or even my celestial spouse or fiance.

I tried to find an image that resembles what I saw and when I found this one I thought it was pretty accurate. I could not see the lower part of his/her body though, so I don’t know if my partner is male or female. You would think that because I am male, she would be female, but the impression I got when I was facing him/her was that he was male and I was female.

This individual is a very significant part of my life now. He’s preparing me for the afterlife, where our marriage will be consummated upon my entry. Apparently there is no other way to enter the celestial world. You have to marry someone who already dwells up there.

I communicate with him via text. It always happens when I’m alone, when all is quiet and when I am not stressed or preoccupied with material things. I sit patiently with my laptop and I start texting. I usually “hear” his reply while I’m typing my question, and sometimes even before! These dialogues are my food. Spiritual food. I have almost lost all craving for physical food since this started. I have lost weight — one more reason for my family to worry and think that I am sick.

My celestial partner is the only person in the universe who cared enough about me during my most agonizing moments. He’s also the only one who was able to explain to me in plain English who I was, where I came from, where I was going and what was my purpose of existing. I owe him quite a lot. He’s my best friend and in a sense he’s even my savior. I don’t know where I would be today if I had not accepted his help.

There is nothing special about me. Everyone has a celestial partner, I’m 100% sure of that. It’s a question of faith. You are free to believe whatever you want. Whatever makes your life heaven or hell, it’s all up to you.

Cheers!

Nebulous Intimacy

Gud02

I don’t want to post, I want to talk. My mind needs stimulation. I need to interact with someone. I want an exchange of information to happen. Now. But I’m alone…

The Internet is the only connection I have so let’s see what I can do with it. I know there are people at the other end. I know that there is someone reading this at this moment.

I’m excited already. Crazy isn’t it? Two minutes ago I felt totally alone and separated from everyone, and now I feel a connection with a reader.

Hi, reader. How are you today? I’m good, probably because I’m doing what I love doing right now: writing and communicating intimately. But do not let the idea of intimacy frighten you away, please. I’m not going to have sex with you. Well not today anyway.

A one-on-one connection is an intimate connection. Something is going on right now between you and me. Admit it. When a writer writes and a reader reads, there is a transfer of information going on. Like the transfer of fluids between two lovers.

Maybe you are turned off by what I’m saying. I have no idea. I’m just typing words, you’re the one who fabricates images in your own mind. Do you like these images?

It’s interesting when I think that I have to power to provoque images in another person’s mind. It’s not mind control, it’s more like an intellectual influence.

It’s funny how the body reacts to thoughts. While I was typing the above paragraphs, there was a unexpected reaction in my body. I thought of telling you but I won’t.

I never expected our connection to be so explicit. It’s still quite early in the morning. But I enjoyed connecting with you. Now we have a relationship.

Wrapped in Fantasy

chrysalis

Here I am, hanging upside down, waiting.
I have all the time in world to think now.
While I listen to them:

“What are you doing up there, alone and silent?  Come back down!  We miss you, we love you, we worry about you.  Don’t do this to yourself.  It’s dangerous and crazy.  It won’t end well.  Listen to us, people like you need professional help.”

I think to myself:  No, I can’t go back down there!  I would rather kill myself than return to my old ways.  Besides, it’s too late already.  I cannot undo what nature has done to me.  Oh yeah, sure, I could break out of this cage, but I would fall and hurt myself badly.

I chose to listen to my inner voice who said that I should walk away from the crowd, climb this tree and hang myself by my feet.  Then wrap myself up and wait it out, while I watch the upside-down world which looks like a horror movie to me.

I don’t see clearly for some reason.  My vision is blurred but I have these fantasies of flying!  I know it sounds absurd but I can’t help it.  The voice in my heart speaks louder than the one of my peers who choose to continue to crawl in the dirt.

But my life is shit, I must admit.  I’m not having any fun at all.  Sometimes I feel like I’m disintegrating.  I have dizzy spells, I get anxious like never before, and worst of all, I am depressed 95% of the time.  The only thing that sustains me are my fantasies which I know are illogical and unreal, but… I must hang on.

“You are an earth-man!  You were meant to live and to love the earth!”

“No, you are a sky-man, meant to detach from the earth to become a light being.”

They are both right.  This is what is confusing.  I am two things.  Two different persons now, caught between two very different worlds.  I am a hybrid!  But can the two survive together, in one body, indefinitely?  One of the two must die.  Which one will it be?  Who do I identify with?

I think that the wise thing to do is to stay where I am and listen to the inner voice who tells me to be patient, and to let the transformation occur.  But I admit, most of time I feel like there is no change happening at all, or that I’m turning into an evil creature.

Them:  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Me:  “I’m metamorphosing and maybe you should too!”

But I can’t explain.  They have no clue.

Utterly Duped

Duped1

I never printed my book.

I completed it over 10 years ago but never printed it.  I don’t even want to reread it.

I cannot believe how much time I wasted writing that book.

Here’s a brief explanation:

After I gave my life to Jesus and became a born-again Christian, I started writing a daily spiritual journal.  I was convinced that God was in my life and that he loved me.  I was extremely motivated.

I wanted to write about how wonderful God was, and how he was blessing me.  But to my surprise, my life as a Christian unfolded as a perpetual series of curses.  It seemed that nothing was going right.  Every time I tried to love someone it would turn against me and every time I tried to do God’s will, it would backfire.

The words written in the bible always turned out to be deceiving and false.  There was either something wrong with my life or there was something wrong with the book.  At first I thought it was me, of course, because I was not allowed to question “God’s Word.”

It was impossible to deny my own life, so the only thing left to question was my religion.

I was keeping a spiritual journal, hoping that one day this journal would be the proof of how God blesses one person’s life.  But my journal turned out to be some kind of horror story about a guy who is in a relationship with a god who does not keep his word!

My diary was supposed to be a proof of God’s love, but after 18 years of reporting all the ups and downs of our relationship, this journal turned out to be documented evidence that the god I was serving was a genuine asshole.

I was not pleased.

Who’s Your Pusher?

Pusher2

Who is pushing you?

Who is pushing me?

I have been so used to being pushed, that the day it stopped, I felt something was wrong.  So I turned around to have a look at the person who had been pushing me all this time.

Who are you, pusher?

This reminds me of a post I published recently, entitled The Inciter.  Plus another one entitled Brave Submissive in which I wrote that I was going to report him/her.  I don’t think I reported this person yet.  I’m still afraid.  Why am I afraid to report him?

Let’s investigate my fear.

*sigh*

First of all I must ask myself:  Am I afraid of the pusher?  No.  The answer is no.  The pusher gives me what I need.  I like him.  Without him I’d be lost.  But then who am I afraid of?

See, he’s pushing me again!  He’s the one who asks me these unpleasant questions.  Always asking why I do the things I do, why I think the way I think, why I feel the way I feel.  He’s pushing me toward self-discovery.  But why does it trouble me?  Don’t I want to discover who I really am?

Yes, but today’s subject is the pusher himself.  It’s not about me this time, it’s about HIM!  Or her.  I don’t even know if he’s masculine or feminine!  Actually I do.  He/she is both.

Let’s start by giving him/her a more appropriate title, other than “pusher.”  This is where I become uncomfortable.  I don’t want to pronounce this title.  I hate the word.  But I have to say it.  It’s going to be the last word I type on this page.

Why do I hate the word?  Because it means everything and it means nothing.  That’s right, it’s such a meaningful and meaningless word.  Yet this word is his title.  It can be replaced by similar words which mean the same thing, but this one word is the shortest, simplest and truest of all.

God

No Pusher

Pusher1

Have you noticed?  There is no pusher this morning.

I needed a push, so I checked the Daily Prompts and to my surprise, there are none today as of 8:30 a.m., North America Eastern Standard Time.

What happened to the person responsible for posting the daily prompts?  Is he/she dead, sick, absent-minded, sleeping, fed up with the job, rebelling?  Or maybe it’s a technical glitch, a programming error.

Whatever the reason, it will leave many bloggers without their drug this morning.  I’m already starting to feel the effect.  With no one around to push me, how do I know in which direction to go?  What if I take the wrong step?

Help!

Loving Myself Blindly

Acquiescence4

Why do I love a person that I cannot see?
Why do I love blindly?
It’s stupid, really.

Maybe it’s because of experience…

I once loved a lady I could see.
And she deceived me.

Now I love a man who I cannot see.
That man is me, aside from my physical body.

The thinking man, the feeling man, the spiritual man.
That is the real me.  I’m not my current limited body.
So I could be blind and still love me.

I love the past me, the present me and the future me.
Especially the future me, the one I intend to be.
He’s already with me.  He is within me.  And he has a…
beautiful, superpowerful, cosmic light-body!

He invites me
He inspires me
He pushes me
He leads me

I can certainly love blindly.
As long as my true lover is me.
And as long as I live eternally.

[Daily Prompt]