Filthy Box

Daemon!

Shit man, you scared me!

Where were you?  What are you doing?

I’m in the Thought World. I’m inside this weird place again. This… box! The writer/blogger/artificial box into which I place myself each time I sit down to write something.

Take my hand and step out of that box. I want to see you naked.

Naked? Ok, Maestro. Thank you.

Are you cold? Take this blanket.

Where did you get that blanket?

It’s an authenticity blanket especially made just for you.

Really? Wow!

You should wear it every day, when you enter the Thought World. You will feel light when wearing it.

Yes, I feel light already. Like I can be myself. No need to pretend. You know this WordPress platform is not a place where I want to lose my authenticity.

It’s a public place. No wonder you feel vulnerable.

I always wondered how it would feel like to be 100% authentic in public.

You can experiment with that.

Thank you for the blanket, man! If you can, please remind me to put it on every morning after I get up. You know how easily I forget these invisible things.

Why don’t you create a blogpost on this subject. Then the idea will root itself more firmly into your awareness.

Good idea.

And one more thing. Don’t go back into that filthy box.

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.

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.

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]

Ugly Humans

antisocial

I wish I could see how beautiful humans are, including myself.  Is it normal to find 99% of all people I meet ugly?  Never mind social media and photos.  I’m talking about real people, the ones we see on the street and meet face to face.  99% of them are ugly.

I wonder if it has anything to do with depression.  It seems that it was not like this before.  I used to find most people beautiful.  Now it seems that everyone is plain ugly.  Not pleasant to look at.  Their faces, the shape of their bodies, even their attitude.  I hardly see anything admirable in humans.

Animals are more beautiful than humans, have you noticed?  Or is it just me?  It’s very depressing and I don’t know where to find a cure for this.  Something must be wrong with my perception.  It can’t be okay to find 99% of the members of my own species ugly.

Maybe there’s something wrong with my vision.  Maybe I need new glasses.  Maybe I’m not human.  Hell, sometimes I even wish I was blind, then I wouldn’t have to look at all the ugliness around me.  Is there a drug that could help me?  How can I change my perception?

Comments are welcome.  I need help.  Thanks.

The Inciter

Highest4

He is the half of me who pushes me to keep going.  As I get depressed easily, his job seems to be to electrocute me with his probe every once in a while, to keep me from dozing off into nothingness.

Some would call him the Higher Self, Kundalini, or the Holy Spirit.  I call him different names because I can’t seem to be able to settle for one in particular.

To me, Higher Self sounds like a meditative state of quietness where not much is happening.  As for Kundalini, it looks like a snake that rises inside my vertebral column.  I don’t feel comfortable knowing that a reptile dwells in my body.  As for Holy Spirit, it appears to be a dove or a halo that makes me feel guilty for not going to church.

I like to think of him as a living person, not a thing.  So why not call him Jesus?  Here is my answer to that question:  To me, the name Jesus has become the property of the christian churches and of christians in general.  I don’t feel comfortable using that name because it already belongs to an exclusive group of people.  If the man is still alive today, as they claim, no institution has the right to take possession of him or of his name.  So I avoid using that name.  (Sorry Jesus, I’m sure you understand and won’t use it against me.)

So today I came up with a new name for him:  The Inciter.  I like it and here is why:

First of all, the Inciter is a person.  He is conscious and alive, awake and aware.  He watches me and cares.  He’s on the alert when I am not.  He incites, which means that he stirs up, he rouses, he excites something within me.  He probes constantly.  I always imagine him as an angel or an alien.  This way I get some great visuals when he moves, acts and reacts around and through me.

The Inciter has become such an intimate part of my life, I now feel that he’s the other half of me.  My better-half, which is an interesting term, as it also means a very close friend or companion, a spouse, or even better:  a lover!

What exactly does the Inciter do?

Today, he incites me to write.  And writing keeps me breathing, keeps me alive and kicking.

Brave Submissive

I intend to report you.  Yes, this is what I’m going to do.  Since this is the only freedom I have left, I am going to take advantage of it fully.  Which reminds me, by the way, that you once said I was a reporter.  So this is what reporters do.  They report.  Then here is my first report.

I’m not angry.  Do I sound angry?  Maybe I am a little.  I don’t even know how I feel.  I’m shaky, I know that.  I feel like something is going to be released, finally.  My insides are trembling.  Nervous, that’s the word.  I feel nervous and I don’t even know why.

There is so much I want to say, I don’t even know where to start and I don’t even know who to address.  Who am I addressing?  You, the one I intend to report or the reader?  Both, because I’m making it public and I know you are reading it too.  You read everything I write.

Two reasons to be anxious:  you and the reader.  But first you.  The fact that you are letting me report you.  How bizarre.  Why does it feel so unsettling?  Because I’ve never spoken of you so overtly before.  You have been my secret for such a long time and I’ve only spoken of you enigmatically.

Now I’m about to speak of you very bluntly for the first time.  No more mystery.  No more poems.  No more parables.  Just the plain truth, as raw as it gets, even if I’m afraid of how it might come out.  I want to do it.

I need to do this.  The time has come.  No matter how hard it is and how much I shake and fear.  I’m tired of keeping it bottled up inside, it’s driving me insane.  Although I know I’m going to sound crazy to some.  I don’t care.  I’m not doing it for anyone else.  I’m doing it for my sake and probably yours too…  beloved goddess.