A Fish in the Sea

How can I make it happen
If I don’t know what I need
If this planet was an ocean
I’d probably be a seaweed

I ran away from a 17-year relationship
As big and as beautiful as the Titanic
But we hit something as cold as the Arctic
And my world went down like a sinking ship

Now I’m broken and lonely
I can’t swallow my spaghetti

I sit in my apartment like an old jerk
Feeling as worthless as an office clerk
Wishing I could connect with someone new
A man, a woman, maybe even you

I feel ugly, I feel sad
My mind is empty and mad

I’m wondering about this dating site
Maybe this is how I can take flight
But what would I write in my profile
“I’m no pervert and no pedophile”

I want to turn around
Bury myself underground

I want to project something real
Find someone who will help me heal
But who wants to date a damaged man
All I need is a patient helping hand

Fuck I don’t even know what I want
I feel more lost than a teenage debutante

There’s a site called Plenty of Fish
Perhaps it can fulfill my wish
Might not be as hot as Florida
But it’s free and popular in Canada

 

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The Mystic

Today I’m wondering if too much spirituality can cause a balance disorder.

Ok, I hear an imaginary crowd of people yelling a resounding, unanimous answer:  “YES!”

Thank you, imaginary unanimous crowd of answering people.  But what if I told you that you are all a bunch of misled materialistic slaves?

Now they are all silent and staring at me.  One of them steps forward and says politely:  “Maybe we are, but you are the one with the balance disorder.”

Bam!

When I think of a guy who clings to spirituality above everything else, I think of an idiot who is trying to fly with man-made wings.  I think of Wile E. Coyote.  Is this what I have become?  What will happen next?

Never mind.

Maybe I should concentrate on being a man instead of trying to be a bird.  But what about my aspirations?

I’m not very good at being human.  I’ve tried it.  I keep failing.

Where are you, italicized dude?  You’re not answering me today?

– I’m here.

So what do you say, am I too spiritual?

– Maybe you want to be a mystic.

A Mystic:  Someone who practices mysticism.

Mysticism:  Becoming one with God or the Absolute, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning.  It may also refer to the attainment of insight in ultimate or hidden truths, and to human transformation supported by various practices or experiences.

Yes, I think I want to be a mystic.  But what about my balance disorder?

– What about it?

If I would stop aspiring to become a great mystic, would I be miraculously cured of my balance disorder?

– I don’t know.  You would have to try it.

Hmm…  I did stop being one with You at one point.  Remember what happened?  I became extremely depressed and ended up in a psychiatric hospital.  So perhaps I was meant to be a mystic.

– Then you must accept the balance disorder.

Thank you.

Double D

I’m not happy.

– What is missing for you to be truly happy?

I don’t know.

– Yes you do.  Think.

I have everything.

– No you don’t.  One thing is missing.  What is it?

Yes, but…

– But what?

I don’t want to say it.

– Say it.

I’m afraid to say it.

– Daemon, what would make you happy?  What is missing?

A man.

– A man.  You want a man?

Yes.

– What kind of man?

An attractive man.  A perfect man.  Not a deceptive man.

– Do you know such a man?

No.
Maybe…
I don’t know.
There is no way to know if a man is deceptive.

– Think, man.

Yes, I know one.
Only one.
Me.
The only sure non-deceptive man I know is me.

– He’s available.  Why don’t you take him?

Because I’m him.

– There are two of you.  Both are looking for each other.

So my life is complete already!

– It always was.

My blog is about this.  I write about it but I don’t believe what I write!

– One does not believe and the other one does.

So what should I do?

– Associate with me.

Spaced-Out

No, I’m not confused through the action of a narcotic drug.

I’m simply in my own space.

I’m spaced-in, not spaced-out.

Well I am both: In my own space and out of other people’s expectations.

I Suck at Friendship

I ask myself:  Do I have any friends?  Aside from family members and excluding blog followers or followees, do I have any real friends?

The answer is no.

A real friend to me is someone whose presence I value to the point of feeling sad and torn at the thought of their death.  There is no one in my life at the moment who fits this category.  Therefore I must conclude that I have no friends.

I feel ashamed.

How did it come to this?

I know:  marriage.

I spent the last 17 years of my life trying to maintain the friendship I had with my wife, and in the end it failed.  Or maybe it didn’t.  We still talk to each other.  But our relationship doesn’t meet my above definition of “a real friend.”  I don’t feel sad or torn at the thought of her death.

Maybe there’s something wrong with my definition.  Is it too extreme?  Is it normal to have become so unattached to people?  Maybe it comes with age.  I don’t know, I’ve never been this old before.  I am older than I have ever been and my life came with no instructions manual.  So I’m not sure of anything.

I wonder if there is a point in life where it becomes impossible to make real new friends.  It seemed easier when I was young.  But as I get older, it’s even difficult to imagine.  I have so much baggage.  The people my age have so much baggage too.  How could I start a fresh new friendship while carrying so much baggage?

The fact that I’m an introvert does not make the prospect look any brighter either.  Having online friends is probably the best I can hope for.  Who could tolerate my presence face to face?  It would take quite a special person.  I wonder if anyone would really enjoy being close to me.

I’m like the guy in the photo above.  My face is a computer monitor that has been switched off.  It reveals nothing of what is inside.  No data is visible.  It’s just a blank screen.  And I’m so sensitive, it’s like my body is covered with buttons.  Who knows what would happen inside my central processing unit if someone would push one of my buttons.

If I had a plug I would pull it out of the socket.

To Bitch or Not to Bitch

I feel like bitching but I don’t know what to bitch about.

To Bitch:
To criticize spitefully, often for the sake of complaining
rather than in order to have the problem corrected.

There are too many things to bitch about, I don’t know where to start.

I could bitch about this proverb.  No, let’s just focus on the first word.

Life.

What’s the problem with life?  Let’s talk about human life because it’s the only one I’ve experienced so far.  The problem is that it doesn’t come with an instructions manual.

I was given something that seems pretty awesome on the onset, but then after a while, everything starts to fail.  You spend your time repairing things that keep breaking.  Everything breaks down eventually, everything!

And at the end you die.

What a bitch!

“Nobody Loves Me”

– It’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

What did you say?

– This phrase that you repeat in your mind, it’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

Well, I don’t feel loved.

– A feeling is not a fact either.

So why do I have this feeling?

– The feeling comes from the belief.

And where does this belief come from?

– You fabricate your beliefs.

Based on what?

– Based on your interpretations.

If someone punches me in the face, how am I supposed to interpret it?

– How many times have someone punched you in the face, Daemon?

Never.

– Give me a concrete example.  At this moment, is someone doing something to harm you?

Right now? . . .  Everyone is ignoring me.

– How do you know that?

I’m not getting any calls.  I’m not receiving any messages.

– Maybe they are sleeping.  Maybe they are busy, trying to survive.  Maybe they are dreaming of you right now.  You don’t know.

You’re right.  I don’t know.

– You base your feelings on your interpretation of non-occurring events.  Then you choose to believe that your feelings are telling you the truth about the situation.  Then you feel even worse.  You keep doing this and become trapped in this depressing cycle.  Stop it, idiot!

Hey, you just called me an idiot!  You’re hurting my feelings!

– I said that because I love you.  See, you can take any insult and turn it into something positive.  You can change your interpretations and metamorphose your beliefs.

I don’t believe you.

– Liar.  You do.

Come here.  Give me a hug.

Short-lived Existence

I spent a good part of my life thinking that I would die soon.

Why?  Where did this idea come from?

Let’s take a walk down memory lane.

My father.  He would often speak about the “end of the world.”  He would read on the subject and leave his books lying around the house.  I remember one book in particular: The Vision by David Wilkerson.

Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist.  I think I was 13 years old when I read his book The Vision.  My father was a firm believer that the Second Coming of Christ was going to happen soon and that we should therefore prepare ourselves for the afterlife and not bother making long-term plans to attain temporal success in the material world.

I was a naive, impressionable boy.  My dad’s way of thinking had a profound impact on my thinking.  I expected the end of the world to happen any day.  I thought more about my death than about my life.  I wonder how normal this was — if it was a good thing or a bad thing as I was growing up.

I know one thing.  It greatly affected my mindset.

I watched my peers as I grew up and could not understand why they were so preoccupied with the things of this world: school, money, career, prestige.  I was concerned with something quite different.  My father used to say: “The most important thing in life is your relationship with God.”  I believed him.

Today I wonder.  What am I trying to prove with my blog?  That I have a relationship with God?  Am I just trying to impress my father?  Am I trying to convince myself and others that this life is unimportant?  Maybe this life is more valuable than I think.

My father died in 2004.  The end of the world did not happen during “this generation,” as he used to say.  He was quite certain that he would live to see the Second Coming of Christ.  He didn’t.  Or maybe he did, on some other level of consciousness.  I don’t know.

Living as though the end is near…  does it push me to live fully or does it depress me?  I think it does both.  It makes me ponder, for one thing.  It makes me turn inward.  It makes me introspect.  It turns me into an introvert.  It makes me think that perhaps the end of Daemon will never come…  or that it came already.

Within My Cocoon

Something weird happens when I go inside my cocoon.  It’s like I become two.  My double appears.  But he doesn’t appear physically.  His presence appears.  I become aware of myself as if myself was another person.  So “I” become aware of “myself.”

You see?  We are two:  I and myself.

I become aware of myself when inside the cocoon.  Very bizarre.  And then what happens next?  “I” talk to “myself.”  Or is it myself who talks to I?  Is there even a difference between myself and I?  The two seem to be the same and they are interchangeable.

It’s as if I had a twin.  But this only happens inside the cocoon.  When you look at the cocoon from the outside, there is only one person, not two.  Why is it like this?

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that this is how the metamorphosis happens.  The dialogue that goes on between myself and I provokes a change!  A change of Self, which is a change of awareness or consciousness.  A growth.  A metaphysical growth.

This might sound very complicated and esoteric but it’s really quite simple.

Metaphysical simply means immaterial, supersensual, not physical (or more properly, “beyond” that which is physical).

Supersensual means beyond the range of what is perceptible by the senses; not belonging to the experienceable physical world.  My dictionary gives a sentence using the word supersensual, which is:  Heaven is a supersensual realm.

Really?  Heaven is a supersensual realm?  Ok, but then so is hell.

So what am I saying?  Where am I going with this train of thought?

Let’s recap.

When my attention turns within, inside my cocoon, my invisible twin appears.  Then we talk to each other, but from the outside it appears that I am talking to myself (crazy person).  The others do not know that I am talking to my double.  The dialogue that goes on between me and my double, especially when written, puts things into place, like building blocks.  This process produces a metaphysical change or a metamorphosis.  It’s the process of building my non-physical reality which we sometimes call heaven or hell.

This thing I do is really important because it determines whether my present and future life will be joyous or desperate, painless or painful, happy or unhappy.

So here’s my conclusion.  Heaven and hell are not rewards or punishments given by some exterior God, they are the result of what I have built for myself while I was inside my cocoon.

Alienated

This is not going to be a feel-good post.  I warn you.  I feel disgusted this morning and this is my attempt at getting rid of it: by dumping it on my readers.

Yeah, I can be cruel sometimes but I gave you advanced notice (see previous paragraph), so if you’re still reading it’s because you don’t mind or you’re curious or just bored.

I went to bed disgusted and woke up feeling the same way.  No, this time it’s not because of my balance disorder, it’s something else.  My relationships disgust me.  The people I am closest to, three of them especially, members of my family.

I’m attempting to distance myself from my family but I’m not there yet.  Family members are not things you can return for a refund.  You’re born with them and they stick to you for life, if not physically then emotionally or psychologically.

The first one is the woman I am currently legally married to.  Although I have declared our marriage null years ago, we are still bound because of the children.  My disgust stems from something I realized yesterday which I will summarized in one sentence:  She uses the children to impose her dominance over me.  That is all I’m going to about that.

The second person is my sister who is almost my best friend.  She keeps breaking up and getting back together with her boyfriend.  She breaks up with him practically every week!  And then she comes crying to me, so I listen.  This causes us to become really close, and then first thing you know, she’s back with the guy and then I don’t hear from her for weeks.  In other words, she only speaks to me when she breaks up with her boyfriend.  What kind of friend is that?

The third person is my other sister who told me yesterday to “stop complaining.”  Whenever I attempt at getting closer with my family, I open up and tell them how I feel, not to gain their pity, but to establish some sort of intimacy so we can offer each other mutual support.  But yesterday all I got was a “stop complaining,” which translates into “Shut the fuck up — if you can’t say anything positive then don’t say anything.”  So much for authenticity.

Anyway, thanks for listening, I just needed to vent a bit.  I’m not feeling any better yet but maybe I will later.