hush

it doesn't matter what other people have or don't have. it doesn't matter what i have or don't have. my problem is that though i have enough problems, i keep creating ones; first twisting myself up in knots and then unraveling myself, again and again. perhaps this is my way of entertaining myself. perhaps i'll stop doing that. or maybe i simply stop worrying about it now.

no distress. no apathy. no despair. nothing, really. being and doing. my frustration comes from trying to get somewhere even though i'm already at the center that i'm trying so hard to reach. i might as well acknowledge it and let it go, stop being so stubborn. for i can be in doubt without having doubts. there's a difference there, and not a very subtle one either. it always amuses me to realize something i hadn't noticed before. my stubbornness almost makes me blush, though. it's like an old-fashioned magic trick that's charming but not really magical anymore. it's almost embarrassing to fall for it, time and again. smile anyway, because it no longer matters.

and i feel so confused today. i don't know where to go from here. i don't even know if direction is the right thing to seek. for in choosing a path, would i not be abandoning other paths. perhaps that would only mislead me.

i'm not at all ready. though the things that i realize seem huge whenever i happen upon them, every time i look back, i see that i'm always at some beginning only. always starting out without ever reaching an end. and that's all right. that is as it is.

and i am as i am. but i don't know what to do with myself. am i truly to do nothing. i don't know. people seem so certain. they have passion and conviction, desire. they want to do things, even if many of them have great problems with being motivated. but to me that lack of motivation is a sign of something. something important. and still they follow their desire to do something, and continue to struggle. i don't truly understand.

sometimes i'm filled with dread when i think about this. i can feel myself spinning further away, even as i sink deeper into the world. i have no passion, no conviction, no desire left in me. i feel like i should do something, but only because that's what people do; we do something. sometimes i wish i could just believe what i'm told. but i don't, and i can't, and i still wish that i could and would. but yeah, i don't really wish for it either. the old "i wish that i wish that i wished..." an endless chain of wishing for wishing. and because the chain never ends, the wish is never made.

if i direct my light towards something, am i not leaving something else without.
oh it doesn't matter at all. does it?

coming around

when people are seen as inferior, they become inferior. when people are seen as superior, they become superior. when people are seen as equal, they become equal. we treat people according to how we see them. what our eyes cast out into the world is what we meet in the world. a person says that people are stupid and treats them according to this opinion, with contempt. another person says that people are amazing and treats them according to this opinion, with wonder. yet they are both held by their own illusions, their own opinions. people are people. simple.

i'm fairly muddled tonight, about this and a dozen other things, my own opinions have become like sand in my pocket; not something that i care to carry around. too much on my mind to be writing right now. go out and walk, or meditate, or get high, or all of it together. i have this feeling that i'm onto something. something has been shifting at the back of my head for days now, and maybe i'll catch a glimpse of it tomorrow, if i happen to be looking at the right time. the calm has become rather effortless, thoughts no longer chatter the way they used to. i like mornings when my heart is empty and my mind is clear, and i love someone distant and someone who's at hand, and what i discovered half an hour ago is still with me, ready to be explored. 10:24pm and i almost wish that i could soothe the despair of those who hurt. almost. if i did, it wouldn't be real, it would be me on them, not they in them. i'd like to hold hands, though. that i would do, if i could. sometimes i can't. so my compassion is just a murmur in the sun, lost into the roar of traffic. but it's there anyway, whether someone hears it or not.

and i'm here, and then i'll be elsewhere again.
goodnight, well, maybe.