harold_maude's journal

It would seem that things go in cycles. Beginning, middle, end.
Repeat.

I'm not sure why, but it seems that somethings keep doing the same cycle no matter how many changes take place.
Like a rut in the road that never gets fixed.

This morning started out fine. Somewhere along about 3-3:30 I began to notice something strange.
Things began to swim in my head. Much like the monday before last when things started crashing.

Only today there was nothing to trigger this.
I can feel the surges of what feels like I'm loosing my mind, and then it quiets down again.
I'm bracing myself for what ever is comming.

I wish I knew why this keeps happening. I wish I could stop it from comming and running over me like a huge truck.

Something that seems to accompany the feelings and thoughts are these strange physical things. Like someone is sticking needles in parts of my feet and hands.
Sharp large needles.

When the pain comes like that I have taken to taking over the counter pain medication to try and stop the pain.
Sometimes it works.

I wish I knew why this keeps happening.
I wish I knew where it comes from, and more importantly how to stop it from comming back.

Sometimes when all of this is going on, there is this overwhelming desire to peel off my skin. It drives me nuts.
It would be wonderful if there was a zipper I could just unzip and get out of my skin.

Monday before last isn't the first time that I ended up feeling like I was going mad, it's just the latest episode.

It used to happen alot, and I would claw at my skin just to stop what ever it was.
After everything was quiet again, I would have scratches all over and my feet would be a mess because of how much skin I had removed with my nails.

If this is the tell tale signs of a nervous break down there is nothing I can do to stop it from comming.
I won't go to the hospital and ask them to help me, they will just lock me up somewhere.
And I don't have the money to go to see anyone anyway, so all I can do is ride it out and hope this passes quickly.

Several years ago when this stuff was daily in my life I did go see a doctor, he confered with another doctor and they recomended observation in the phychward.
They gave me medication which didn't help, it didn't touch the fire that my brain was emersed in or quite the nightmears that were so real that I would wake up in a cold sweat, just ended up costing alot of money, and when things didn't work they tried harder to put me away.

My family stepped in and stopped them.
I wonder if I had been put away if they would have ever let me out.
I don't think they would have because I see things, and hear things that turn out to be real.
I don't think it would be a comfort to anyone to let someone who can see things wandering around the streets doing strange things.
I tend to keep that part of me away as much as I can from the world.
I see things that are inside of people, things that they never want anyone to know about.
Secret things.
I'm pretty sure that's why I scare people sometimes.

I can feel my head pounding again. And it feels like someone is trying to push the walls of my skull out.

This reminds me of the dream I had a couple of nights ago.
Everything was completely white. And I was in a long hall with a room in the middle of the hall.
It was open, no doors.
I was standing there and when I turned around there was this man comming tord me, dressed completely in white, the only thing that wasn't covered was his face.
His eyes were like large pupils with no iris, and he was looking at me, through me saying only this: "I'm in your head. I'm in your head, I'm in your head."
The closer he got the faster he moved and the closer he came the more scared I got, and I started running.

He started running after me screaming the same thing over and over, saying nothing else but that.
I woke up and I was shaking and sweating.
It felt like my legs were waking up from being asleep and there were pins and needles all over them and my feet.
It felt like someone was stabbing my feet with needles.

I don't know what all of this means. I don't know anything of why this has all started again.
I don't know what I did.
If I did, I would try to fix it.

Two afternoons ago I was doing somethings, and suddenly I was overcome by the need to sleep.
I laid down and somewhere in the next 4 hours I had a dream that was really strange.
I found myself in a village that was up in the mountians somewhere, and the houses were built off the ground on high stilts.
The first person I saw in the dream was this man who was dressed in the same kind of coveralls that a mechanic wears.
Although he looked normal, there was something about his eyes.
They were this stange clear blue color, almost void of being human.
He started walking tord me, and smiled. I wasn't scared because there was nothing about this man that seemed scary.
Then out of the blue he jumped on me and started to stangle me.

I was fighting for my life. This other man, a full blood indian, I'm pretty sure it was a medicine man came up behind him and pulled him off me. Then the man in coveralls just vanished.
The indian looked and me, helped me up and said that I needed to come quickly with him.
I noticed his eyes too, they were a clear deep blue, like the sky on a perfect summer day.

I followed as quickly as I could, which was difficult because the floor of the building had spaces between the boards which dropped off into nothingness below me.

As I followed him he spoke to me and told me that I was invited to go through the rituals that the warriors go through, the testings and trials.
It seemed strange because I knew women were never asked to go through the rituals.

Suddenly there were native americans from every tribe that ever existed in this country everywhere.
I noticed everyone's eyes. Different shades of blue. Some happy, some sad, and some with a very far away look about them.
It was like being in a traffic jam with no cars.

I was following the man who saved my life and all of a sudden I kept seeing kevin's face and he was trying to tell me something but I couldn't hear him.
He vanished into the crowd.

The next thing I knew I was standing in a lodge where the first test was to take place.
It was so cold in the building.
The test was made up of a series of short down hill ski jump ramps.
At the bottom there was a long metal pole with a silver ball at the top.
The skis were just longer than my feet, and the idea was to start at the top and then go down the first one and land on the second and so on.
If it was done properly the last one would propell you up the pole and you would grab the silver ball at the top.
I watched on person do it and when they grabbed the ball they were held there frozen for a little while and then they vanished.

It seemed to a door way. As there was no way to get down from the pole and no doors at that end leading out of the building or stairs leading back up to where I was standing.
And under each of the ramps and the pole there was nothing.
It was like what was under the building I started in.

I went to the room where you get dressed in the body suit to do the test and I saw kevin outside.
He was trying to get me to come to him.
I ran outside and there were all these people, and he had vanished.
I wanted to let him know I was going to do the tests and then I woke up.

When I did, there was this friend of ours sitting on the stairs, presumably waiting for me to wake up.
He seemed to want to talk to me about some things.
I could tell by the way his eyes looked when we sat down at the kitchen table.
He didn't say much, but I could see how exausted and troubled he was.
It was almost like he was on the verge of breaking down.

I never really found out what was troubling him, but it felt and looked like he was being pulled and stretched and it was more than he could take.

he stayed for a while and then left

it seems something is goofy with the computer keys
i need to check it out
will finish this later

Cow shit, bull shit, horse shit...any kind of shit, including family shit is just that, waste products that can be turned into dirt.

It's the bottom line alot of time.

And what do I owe this view of things to? A letter, another one of those in which I get reminded, repremanded by someone simply because I didn't get all excited over what they want to do for me in some distant future time, and was honest enough to tell them that I've heard so many people say so many things, some well intentioned, and some things said are a result of an emotional moment.
(soft and fuzzy makes me dizzy and want to go all gooie)

When people say things to me, about what I should or shouldn't do, or what they will do, I take it as it is.
Realizing that 90% of what is said is in that moment.
And for me to put emotional weights and hopes on what's said and to get exicted and try to build a building on that is stupid.
It's like building a mansion on the top of a volcano. It's stupid.

I've spent far too much on believing and counting on what someone said, only to have it be nothing in the end, with me having put lots of time and energy tord it, not to come away with this:
That until I hold it, touch it, can actually put it in the bank, there ain't no sense in spending what I have foolishly.
Because until I hold it, touch it and can actually put it in the bank, it's just a nice thought, and my closets are full of nice thoughts and good intentions from well meaning people who arn't standing in my shoes.

One of the things I love about this place and the peace and acceptance of this place is that when I get slammed into the wall I can come and just let go, and no one takes offense or believes that they need to fix me.
Or even remind me that this is the real world and shit happens and maybe my pile of shit is due to the choices I've made so in effect I'm paying the price for doing what I did, and by golly if I have to pay this price for the rest of my life that's just too darn bad.

FUCK THAT SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahhhh, now that that emotional explosive burst of frustration is out of the way, and I can eat my milk and cookies more quietly, I have this to say:
That when things go wrong I'm just as human as the next person.
That sometimes when everything is falling apart that makes the work I've invested seem a moot point, it really is ok to feel like shit.
It's ok to have feelings.
It really really is. It's a lot better than what I used to do when the world came to sit on my head and try and break my back.
I used to respond by eating, or washing my hands, or shopping like it wasn't going to be here 5 minuets from now.

Sometimes when it feels like I'm being punished for even trying, and my life is doomed to have diamond studded carrots possitioned over very deep holes just to watch me go for it one more time, that it's ok to want someone just to be there.
To pass no judgement, or try to remind me of things I know and accept, but just allow me to stop sofocating and feel bad for a little while.

I get the impression based on why people show up in my life or call or anything else, is that it's my job, based again on conversations that happen, and I do have witnesses to this process, so I know it not just me saying this, to listen and listen and listen, like some large depository for their crap.
BUT!!!!!!!!!!!! if I go to those same people when I need just a bit of support, I'm told all kinds of manner of shit, that I'm having a pitty party, that because I've shot down their promise balloons that I'm suppose to get all excited and drool over and build my fucking life around and don't, that they have every fucking right to roast me over the fucking coals.

Give me a fucking break!

I'm strong. I know that. I know the real world kicks people around, sometimes a little bit, sometimes alot and then it feels like life got a dump truck to run you over with.
That's life.
And it really dosen't matter what my cracked mirror looks like when I see it, or that the conclusions I come to maybe based on repeated experiences that end the same way again and again.

All that matters sometimes when all you can feel is pain and bewilderment is someone to step along side you and just be there.
That's it.

And it would seem that I can't get this one person who responds every time I talk to them when things go sideways in my life, to understand that all I need, all I want is for them to just be there.
They expect it of me all the time.
Our phone conversations consist mostly of me going uh huh. I do have witnesses.
They call and go on and on and on about all this or that, and I just sit on this on going uh huh.
First, there is no space made in the conversation for me to say any more than that, and secondly, I have nothing to say because I don't live in their shoes.

I've gotten to the place where trying to prove points just to prove points is exausting.
I'm of a mind that doing that is more about the need to be right than anything else.
I've found myself in an on going debate, that I didn't realize it had become, and I don't want to debate, I don't want to argue, I'm tired.
This person who wrote me this letter has a need to be right.
Period.
It's a relative so please no body here get the wrong idea ok...
should have stated that right off, but I'm saying it now.

They will push and manipulate as much as they can until out of sheer exaustion from their constant pushing that people will agree to do what they want.

I was real honest with them when they called after I made the mistake of writing a letter to them about what I was feeling.
What I said offened them. That I would have the nerve to put them in the same catagory as everyone who has said things to me but never followed through, so I've taken the stance that I don't trust what people say, it's what they do that tells me the truth about their intentions.
That goes the same all across the board including me.

And this offended them. And sure as black clouds have rain in mind, the letter came.
They could have their say, and basicly get in my face and tell me I needed to stop throwing tanturms and having pitty parites and this is the real world and welcome to it....

Deep sigh...It did help me come to one conclusion, that from now on I will write when things get like that, in some obscure place like word pad, or here in some vague way, and call it good.
There is no sense in expecting this person to understand when I just need someone to steady myself when I'm standing in 90 mile an hour winds.
They don't. They just need to be right. Even if that means that they need to bite me in the process...

But that too is life sometimes. Shit happens.
That's all,...it just sometimes happens.

If you drop a pebble into the water, there is a splash or a plunk depending on how high you hold your hand above the water.
Then there are ripples, and any reflection from the sky or trees becomes distorted.

For a time, nothing looks right, but from the place your standing or sitting at you reconize why.

If the water has a chance to still and quiet, barring any wind, the reflection will, at some point regain the mirrored surface and the immages reflected will again look as they should.

But if you never let the pool rest, but kept dropping pebbles into the water, two things are likely to happen.

One, the pool will be in constant motion from the pebbles hitting the surface and making waves, distorting the reflection of the sky and trees.
Two, under the surface there will be a pile of pebbles that will begin to rise to the surface and after awhile if you kept dropping pebbles into the same spot, the pebble would break the surface and become a permanent disturbance to the mirrored surface.

After a while the pile of pebbles would become a place where insects could land and stop, and if you kept dropping pebbles into the pool there would come a time that the edges of the pool would be too limiting for the water.

Now water is an interesting thing.
It's one of those unique things in nature that can assume many forms depending on the conditions in which it exists.
What it's made up of, one atom of hydrogen and two atoms of oxygen stays the same.
But the conditions that it comes in contact with changes how it looks.

Liquid. Vapor. Ice and it's various forms, that is snow, frost, or chunk.

All this condsideration for a simple thing. Something that attracts a child more than an adult.
The fascination with water, the pebbles and what happens.
Somewhere along the line the pool changes.

Adults drive through them on the street, walk around them in parking lots so as not to get their feet wet, and build colverts so that the water can go somewhere other than just stand there and be in the way of what they are building.
In summer, pools of standing water are places where mesquetos lay their eggs and those pesky bugs that drive most of us crazy are reason enough to pour oil of somekind into the pool.
It kills the larva of the mesquetoes, and makes going outside more pleasant.

To a child though, the pool of water is something entirely different. It's got something to offer.
A whole world of things.
It becomes a lake for bugs to take a holiday at.
It becomes the place where you can take a flying leap into just to watch the water spray.
And depending on how hard you jump, you can make the water go pretty high.
Children are delighted by this.
They jump from pool to pool as hard as they can, and if there are many pools they can resemble frogs in clothes lost in the sheer enjoyment of making the water fly.

Even when a pool gets oil on it's surface something happens that can make a child stop. It's the rainbow thing.
Something that happens to look like the pictures I've seen of the nebulas and star clusters that we'ver only relativly reciently have begun to see pictures of.

I remember watching oil slicks on water for hours. It was like looking at a bubble that was flattened out.
I loved the colors and how they swirled and curved and the longer I watched the more beautiful it became.
I didn't know at the time why it did what it did, or anything about light waves, or how light when it hits the surface of something will reflect back one or two colors because of the molectular density of what I was looking at.

It was just this magical thing. The same with frost. Both on the trees and on glass.
Cool stuff. You could press your fingers against a glass covered in frost and leave your hand there. Or at least the print of your hand.
It was cold, but it didn't take long for the warmth of your hand to melt the frost and then after pulling my hand away, I would get close and inspect the lines, what I could see of them, and ponder with amazement that that's what my hand looked like.

I spent long hours lost in those kinds of things.

It seems now though, that the choas of nessity has taken much from me, those things included.
It's not that I don't want to get down close to a pool of water that I see and dream as I watch the reflection and see the little bugs walking along the edges trying to find the end so they can keep going, but I haven't been able to.
I miss that.
Terribly.

To not be so over loaded with requirements to be an adult in this life would be wonderful.
But that's what happened.

I still get time to do those things, but it's not near enough anymore to let the world and it's screaming fade to black so I can relax enough and clear my head enough to be content at the edge of a pool.

I've thought about my perfect world alot. A place where war dosen't take center stage.
A place where people haven't lost their humanity.
Except when something disasterous happens. Then there is all kinds of human things that go on. Some good, some not so good.

In my perfect world, there would be room for everyone to be who they were ment to be, and childhood, would last longer because the best parts of being a child would survive through out all of life.
The ablity to be amazed. The ablity to have adventures, the kind that don't involve a movie that stirs that stagnant sleeping pot of immagination that gets pushed to the side because the need to work so the bills and toys of adult hood can be fed.

In my world, it would be as easy to become robin hood as it is to put on a work uniform.
More so.

Bartering would be more important than money. Bartering involves the skills and talents that each person has.
It makes each person involved valuable.
And it takes away the nessity for money. It also has the power to shut out the greedy hand of the goverment poking into your labor stealing what it believes is it's share of your life.

This world we live in, it's all screwed up. Things are so backwards. Money is the most important thing.
And possition in a company or the family you belong to, meaning old money that has power attached to it means the most in this world.
And the jewels of childhood? Well, they get lost, distroyed, set aside for more adult persuits.

And we become swallowed up as we grow older, or up, or become "responsible" contributors to society. Good consumers.
Buy lots of stuff and die in debt. And pay your taxes like a good upstanding member who contributes to society should.

And it stinks. Really really bad.
It feels grimey, and gross, and alot like being stuffed into a very uncomfortable suit that makes you sweat like a pig and act like a rat fighting over crumbs of food.

Each year that I exist here on this planet, I see more and more children being stripped earlier and earlier of any semblance of childhood.
They are shoved, pushed, stuffed into the world of being a good greedy consumer.
The world of immagniation is crowed out. Children are told to grow up, act their age, to stop playing with this or that, and do their chores, or homework, and then handed controlers to video games or movies that do the imagination work for them.
They are carefully groomed to become box dwellers.
And they loose, and loose and loose.

The most important gifts of life, the ones that make bordom something that doesn't have a chance to take hold, are smashed, crushed and otherwise thrown out.

I've seen parents telling children as they sit down to create something that everything has to match, the colors have to be this way or that, and to hurry up because "we have to eat lunch because we have lots to do"
What the hell happened to parents sitting down with their children and getting as messy as the kids while making something wonderful, and doing something really novel like laughing and suddenly being amazed because it's fun?
And getting the chance to see how wonderful it is to just get lost in some story that a pool of water can tell?

I used to tell people I was an escapee from neverland. And they would laugh.
I thought about that last night. What I was actually saying.
And I thought why would I want to escape from the most wonderful place in the world?
Why would I in my right mind want to leave someplace where the world is as it should be?

I'm not an escapee from neverland, I'm one of it's residents.
I will always be a resident of neverland and fericely defend it's borders.
Why?
Because I love neverland. I love my immangination. It's powerful and well fed. And it makes for a great vaction that you never have to go anywhere or pay any money out to get there, it's as close as letting your thoughts wander.
Letting your thoughts get out of the city as it were, and take the path through the woods or fields and suddenly your wearing the clothes of neverland, what ever those might be.

Today maybe your a pirate on the highseas off to burry more treasure.
Or maybe your a fairy dancing from flower to flower, grabing hold of the tail of a dragonfly that takes you on some wild ride.

Maybe your a king wandering around in the woods of some forgotten part of the kingdom and you come upon a really odd tree that has gold leaves and you eat one and fall through a door that leads to somewhere else.

That's what neverland does to you. That's what it offers. But it's so much more.
It keeps you young. Inside where no frame of time can touch you.
No matter what your body is doing, neverland keeps time away.

That's what I realized last night. And I'm sorry I thought it was ok to say I was an escapee from neverland. It wasn't. But I was stupid and didn't understand.
But I do now.
I'm a resident of neverland, and my fondest wish is to infect every human I come incontact with the desire to return there.

So boys and girls of all ages, if your game, lets go wandering, and see where the day takes us, shall we?
There is adventure to be had, and wonderful and marvelous things to behold.
And all you have to do to get there is just believe and let go...
before you know it, you'll be there.

And the biggest surprise is, that you can go there anytime, anywhere you want to.
So what are you waiting for?

I'll see you there. Look up and you'll see me flying with peter and tink, dancing in the clouds playing king of the mountian...:)

Last night we had a visit from one of our previous roommates.
He has been living for the past year on the west coast on and near the beach.
Him showing up explains why most of last week all I could think of was the ocean.
Preparation for his arrival.

All of what I've gone through in this last week, and realizing that my thoughts of the ocean were mearly letters being sent to me trying to tell me he was comming and that it was one of the things that I've been waiting on, tells me a few things I didn't know even last week.

It occurs to me that we get information all the time. We get gut feelings about things, we have dreams, the hairs on our arms and neck stand up, that kind of thing.
They are posted notes from the universe trying to talk to us.
That's what it me last night as we visited.

Posted notes.
All the time. Most of the time it would seem that we are too immersed in so much daily chaos that we miss what we're being told, and by the time we get it, our viewing space is literally plasted with posted notes.
We remember those notes in hind sight, and can see them for what they are when we think about the different things along the way, but the thing I think is to learn to reconize a posted note when you see one.

I find myself, after this little window popped open and it went see, and I went whoa, that what I went through is loaded with posted notes, now all I have is read them, and wait.

All of this reminds me of doing prep work for making a dish of somekind.
You get this recipie. It's for something you really want to eat.
You get the ingredients, and do the prep work and then you cook it and finally eat it.
A process.

The things of life, the changes, the experiences, the steps we take and the things we do, can be paralled to this process.

The drive of my life for a very long time has been to live out my purpose and be what I was ment to be (the dish I want to eat)

The experiences, learning tools, hard things, good things, loosing and gaining and then loosing things, looking at it, and trying to learn more, so I can keep going forward (the buying and prep and cooking the food)

And finally feeling more in tune having a clearer thought process and understanding and living out the end result (eating the food)

I'm not sure what the storm was really about, but I do know there is some really old painful things that need to be healed.
Things with my father, which I can only do part of because he has been gone for almost 10 years now.
The cleaning out and changing of things...and one thing that keeps happening, the one thing I have come to a brick wall about over and over.

I suspect that over time all the posted notes and what they say will come clear, and it will all make sense, even the feelings and the things I felt and how close I came to going over the edge.
I don't understand alot of it right now...but I'm sure I will, and it will be one big aha moment.

I was reminded of something I practiced for a very long time, and due to the circumstances of life was unable to practice it as easily.
It's this, that when you are given things, and have your hands clenched tight around those things you can't go forward, the way of recieving any more is stopped because your hands are already full.
Clutching tightly to what's in them.

It's only when our hands are open and stretched forward is there any possiblity to recieve more.
The giving away of what we've been given makes room for more.

I used to practice that alot. And then I slowly slowed down.
Last night I was reminded of that practice and the nessity of it.
So I did just that.
And already this morning I noticed the effect.
It's funny that I didn't have very long to wait for the results.

That's where things are this morning...

I just finished reading my previous journal entry, giving it some breathing space to see if I felt the same this morning after the bomb, so to speak, hit.
And yeah, the same view is present.

I thought about why I see things the way I do, and I keep comming to the same conclusion over and over.
My life, such as it is, keeps getting harder, stuffed deeper into a narrowing tunnel.
Things keep happening just in time to keep death at bay.
It's almost like what I get is just enough to keep me struggling harder and harder to the point where it is now.
If things keep going this way, it will be harder to live.
Due simply to the course of jobs dying out before there is even enough to make ends meet for any length of time.

The thoughts and my observing them, are on some other wave length. Nothing constricts them.
And my emotions are removed from those observations, in short they just come in, I see them and write about what I'm seeing.
Even the flow of them, is a process of unfolding.
Like someone is standing there showing me somthing and when I'm finished writing about that then the next thing is there.
I suppose it would be much like a reporter writing about an accident or an event.
The reporter is just there and their only connection to what they are seeing is based on them being there.

That's how my life and the overflow and all the thoughts and observations feel.
I can't find a better explaintion than this.

My life experiences and the things I've gone through that have given me the perspective I have are a different matter altogether.
And when I write about those it generally takes on a tone of what things are possible and what I've seen as the result of events or personal struggle.

I'm not sure there is any other way to look at all of this.
Maybe durring some sleep cycle I went somewhere and something happened that I don't remember, and that's why my head is on overload the way it is.
Maybe God decited that I should spend my life here as somekind of off the wall observer who's only means of communicating what their seeing is what I'm experiencing so that people who come along who need some missing puzzle peice so they can get further down the road would understand things in their life better, and it would take away some of the obsticles that they couldn't other wise get around.

What my experiences in life tell me is that I'm here for the sole purpose to help other people out.
My own desires, wishes, wants mean nothing.
If they did, I'm of a mind that the same things wouldn't keep happening to me the way they end up.
Something clicks into place, but it never lasts.
The only things that seem to last are the kinds of things that most people would look at and walk away from because of how bad or how worthless they ultimately are,
a job where everything you do get undercut because the manager is a control freak, and you don't get fired because you show up and keep trying to do your job.
A job where the insanity of the company is that the people in charge who are taking you and others who you work with have had no sleep for days and so puts you and everybody else in danger of being in some major life threatening accident.
And that job is never stopped or halted except by you.
A job where the hours you work push you beyond what's reasonable for human endurance and effectiveness, and it's never shut down or stopped until you are so exausted from the insanity of it all that you have two choices, either fall asleep at the wheel because you can't sleep anymore, or keep going and hope things get better.

And the stuff that keeps getting taken away are things you really enjoy, and find a nitch for and they don't run you through some over load physically or mentally.

Looking at this from a distance the conclusions I keep comming back to are the ones I've come up with...

I was going to edit my last entry, or delet it altogether, but it's still the same this morning.
And now on top of all of this, I'm fighting depression again.
I had a great and wonderful weekend, and I didn't get to enjoy it for several days because it got smashed to bits right after it happened.
The story of my life. Lost in reruns of the same same.

I really wonder if I'm not ment to be locked into some state of suffering because I'm a worthless human being that did lots of bad things, like being born into a very distructive and violent family, and now I'm having to spend the remainder of my life paying for being a bad human being...
this is hard to see any other way.
I can't find any other answers for why this keeps happening over and over.
I've tried looking at it from other places, but it all just ends up comming out the same.
And I'm to the point where I'm exausted beyond reason, but I see no change in the future, just a continueing routine of the same, only worse.

It's making it really hard to want to hang on to life, and not just check out.
Really hard.

I just finished reading a letter from my daughter. It was full of wonderful things.
I was happy for her, and her brother. And for their father.
He has this wonderful life.
I realize that none of this wonderful would have occured had I stayed.

When I left I never asked for anything. People told me I was crazy. But my thinking and belief on the subject was why should I?
I relinquished all rights to any property, and everything else for that matter. I felt like those things were never mine in anyway shape or form.
In fact, my view at the time was this: I felt like I should be paying him to live in his house.

So I left with my clothes, 3 blankets and a couple of pans some food that would help and about 600 dollars in my pocket that I had saved.

My life now, as it is, has been a lesson in learning that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do to make a difference it's a moot point.
Anything good that I've said or thought, I believe has come from somewhere other than me.
I can't take credit for anything other than my screw ups.
And the decision I make on several occasions not to become a raging drunk.

The things of wisdom that I have written down have been like birds that have flown in some window in my head and I thought they were pretty cool so I just reported what I was seeing, I think that's why my head is on overload. The window is open 24/7 like a convinence store that stays open all year.

They come from somewhere else, and for what ever reason, I'm just bright enough to write about them.

If they did belong to me, generated from some brilliant hole in my head I think I would know it.
It would feel different when I would see them in my head.

So I've come to this conclusion, I'm dust in waiting.
That's all. That's it.
Bottom line.
I'm very sure there will be arguments to the contrary. But please if there are, kindly say nothing.
There is no point in trying to see what I can see from any other perspective.
The good things that do come arn't for me. I don't get to enjoy them, they are for other people.
I'm just a box, with a lid that someone comes and fills with stuff till it overflows.

I do know this, that who ever is filling the box with the good stuff is very very wise and very smart.
And if your amazed by anything, be amazed by this, that there is someone who would consider putting those things in this box so that they could be said.

I am convinced, by the course of my life, that this is right.
I'm only dust in waiting...that's all.