He did not call.

When people don’t get a call, they probably don’t even notice. If they do, they just say he’s probably busy. And get over it and continue with their work. Or they make the call themselves. They don’t go on analyzing why and how and what it means and what this in turn means and this can go on and on. I wish i could too, you know. Like just switch off this thing. and stop thinking. Stop this analyzing sprees. Because I know it’s not even an efficient mechanism: it cannot consider all the factors and variables that actually are involved. It’s missing many of them and it follows branches of thought that are specifically the most self-destructive until it reaches a very dark place where you’re miserable and there’s no way out, except violence, hatred: self-hatred and hatred of the other. And your thought dwells there and it takes root there. And it becomes very hard to uproot it again. it’s like falling into this infinite spiral and it’s really dark down there. And it’s like. this diseased thing. a cancerous cell multiplying and dividing itself; expanding exponentially, abnormally and alarmingly fast. it feels like it’s gonna destroy you till you die, just like cancer, or till you go crazy. Going crazy is more scary than dying.

Yeah i wish i could just not bother about it.. but when i don’t get a call, this is what happens in my head:

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It’s not pretty. and it’s scary too. And i’m not responsible for it. If i were, i’d stop at the first question. and have a blank page and a blank mind. but it’s overcrowded, it’s going overboard, it’s too much for a little head. and i wish i could channel this into something creative or beautiful, but it doesn’t work like that. it goes into directions i do not want it to go, it doesn’t follow any orders, it’s the one in command, and I have to watch its drama show. ‘It’ is not Me. No. I should not identify with It. but it’s part of me. Denying this doesn’t make it go away. On top of that i know all this is just an ego-play. In reality there’s no 2 there’s only 1. There’s no separation between him and I. Acidheads, sages and shamans will say there’s no 2, so all that is going on in your head is invalid. But my mind. it wont listen. Thought, in its very nature is dualistic and divisive, so it is bound to create the distance, the space, the distinction, the expectations, the hatred, the hurt, the jealousy, the other woman. No she isn’t born out of my thought. i hate the other woman. yes i do. and i freaking do. We’re not 1. i’m not her. To hell with the acidheads and sages and shamans : make me feel one with her and I’ll believe you. Till then I hate her and i’m gonna hate him because of her.

At the Door.

Knock! Knock!

– Go.Away.

– Don’t you want to see who it is?

– I know it’s just another Illusion.

– So you think that, if you keep on refusing to open, the Illusions will stop coming at your door at some point?

– I don’t know. I don’t care. I ain’t opening that fucking door to anything again.

– What if..it were not an Illusion, what if this time, it were Reality, or Truth, or something awesome like True Love, or the Mission of your life, or Enlightenment?

– Don’t care. I’d tell it to get lost just the same. Because whatever it can be, will always be accompanied by Pain. I don’t want the awesome, it’s bound to come with its partner: its opposite. Reality is right here, right now.

– Why don’t you just open the door and look at the Illusion as it is: as an illusion? Let it come and entertain it like one? It can’t hurt you if you remember it is an Illusion.

– Everytime I let one in, it becomes really hard to make it go afterwards. It’s like this intrusive guest that makes himself at home in your home and doesn’t want to go. And the more time I spend with it, the more I start to believe in him, and forget it’s an Illusion. I get into its game. And when he goes away (he’s bound to go at some point, because he ain’t real, or die right here and leave his rotten envelope behind for me to clean up,) it breaks my heart. I’m not entertaining Illusions in my house anymore.

– But you do know, that.. you’re one of them too, right?

– …

– Well, you are. Maybe you should get out of the house too and go away. Or shoot a bullet into your fucking illusional head.

Ep

“Salvia is a teacher who shows you in bizarre ways. – yeah like showing you what it is like to be turned into a jar of wasabi on a supermarket shelf fearing being sold and being removed from the other bottles of wasabi it has known until now”

Reality: so bad..or not?

Reality is..the thing that is not exactly, not always, how you’d like it to be. You know..like a perfect love with no issues, like being able to make money from what you love doing, like living in harmony with everyone friends and family, having a perfect body and face and health, having others recognize your worth, not having to deal with anger and sadness, and all the ideal shit..

Reality is where everything doesn’t fit in with what You want.

It’s funny how reality has this negative connotation about it. Like…when everything is awesome, you feel like it’s ‘magical’, you say it’s like a dream you’re living, it’s like anything but reality. Because reality is painful, reality is not perfect. Reality is problematic. Reality puts an end to your dream.
But…but..then again, this is only because it doesn’t answer to your wishes and desires, and doesn’t match your definitions of how things should be, how You should be. So, if you don’t have any requests, any demand about how stuff should be like, to please your little being, then..reality is fine. Reality is just what it is. We won’t have any problem with it. It loses its negative connotations. And then, we don’t need drugs any more to escape from reality, we don’t seek refuge in food, we don’t need to run away abroad, we don’t get bored and look for something better to do, we don’t cry in love, we don’t kick and scream at our lover because he’s not loving us well enough, we don’t hate our parents because they’re so fucked up, we don’t desperately try to find a way out of reality. Reality is no more at our heels, trying to eat up our dreams. Reality kind of becomes livable. Like we’re in it and at peace with it.
But are we ready to give up our ideas of what we want so badly all the time? music to listen to in the bus. better food than what is in the kitchen. more money. material stuff. spiritual stuff. a cigarette. a joint. love. sex. God. Enlightenment. Power. Freedom.

Unless there is this thing that is ultimate reality where you actually see that everything is exactly how ‘you’ want it to be. but this i don’t know.