Where does one go when they've figured out the meaning of everything? That's when we're free, right? But we can't live in a constant state of Nirvana, a constant state of never-ending spiritual bliss. Why, nothing would get done! We'd all be sitting in the dirt pissing all over each other, eyes to the heavens. Maybe? Maybe. In this state of being we have to work up to that one brief moment of absolute clarity, then carry that knowledge with us in our day-to-day lives. Make something of it.
It's funny because in spite of the vast amount of drugs I've done in the most beautiful places, I've never had that 'aha!' moment. It's taken nearly 3 years and dozens and dozens of experiments to get 'it'. It being everything. The 'oneness'.
I used to furiously, constantly debate with my atheist ex about the being of God. I've never been able to understand how one could believe that there's no being higher than themselves… It's just a little too nihilistic for me to grasp. Of course there's a god! I'd say. He'd demand an explanation, laugh at me for believing in a 'man in the sky controlling everything'.
Except, that's never what I believed. Stubborn atheists. The moment you say you believe in God you're written off as a fool. I don't mind. It's NOT a man in the sky controlling your daily life and thoughts and being. It's YOU. It's you and me and everything and everyone you know. That's it. That's the secret. We are one, we are INFINITE. Our current state of being is what is finite. Just a speck on a speck floating amongst a vast citadel of stars. There's a universe inside of us, cells and atoms and molecules and maybe even things that are beyond our capabilities of measurement.
So why bother fighting? Why bother getting mad? I'd just be getting mad at myself. Because it all comes down to everything simply being a child in a room playing with their imagination.
I've almost found inner peace, it comes and goes. Loosing it is what's so goddamn frustrating. I'm so, so close to something that I've just barely scratched the surface at of understanding. I get the feeling that by my birthday I'll have gotten there and once I've arrived at that point there will be no limits to what I can do. Focus. Rework all this misguided energy I have. Learn, discover, create. It's there. Hate to use cliches but change isn't instant it's a process. I'm getting there. I'm resistant to change by way of chemicals but maybe that's the quickest fix for now. The comparison of band aid for a bullet wound is a bit much but there you have it.
Ahh… City Bakery. I started eating one of their cookies and had one of those moments -- those perfect moments where you're totally present and everything makes sense, even if just for a minute. It was the best cookie I've ever had. NOT because it is a culinary masterpiece (which it is), but because it tasted like all of of the great nights I've eaten them with him, like when he held me in Rosemary's and assured me everything would be okay after running over the bridge for hours, like the morning after I met him, like that perfect Mardi Gras. Like happiness and comfort and security and love and trust and everything that's good.
I am so beyond lucky to have so quickly found love after the disaster that was my life for July till February.
But of course it's not luck, It's just as it's supposed to be. Long live the chaos!
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there was A time when it was not.
It has no future but itself, Its infinite realms contain Its past, enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.
It's undeniably liberating knowing what forever looks like.
There's something about journaling that kept me so much more balanced. I lost it, I stopped writing, for a while I all but stopped breathing. Every few months I fall into these deep holes where all I can bring myself to do is lay in bed while the world falls apart around me. I disappear. I'm really great at that. Fall into a bad relationship, ruin myself, end it and pick myself up again. Find another relationship just like what I so desperately escaped from. Rinse, cycle, repeat.
5 years later and I'm a worse writer than I was when I started. Ha. Something tells me I'll get better in time. Practice makes perfect, but I suppose everything is perfect as is, is it not?
I wonder if it's possible to love too much. I love every single person I encounter unless they're trying to hurt me or others and ask for nothing in return. Do you love? The older I get, I find I stay the same but I keep stumbling into people who have forgotten how to love. Or maybe they never learned what love really is. Do you love? No, really. Think about it. Slow down. Think.
Imperfection IS perfection. You see, there's no black or white, it's all oneness. Everything is perfect just as it is. Perception is what creates your own reality and perception is the ego/self. And the ego is what's the problem. Remove the ego, achieve greatness. The first step is to love.
I wish I could articulate better what happens in my head. Here I am, waxing philosophical garbage. Life is really simple though. Don't think, just do. Don't look for things and they'll come to you. Long live the chaos.
Drifting... Into my thoughts. I hurt today. Everything reminds me of you for some reason. That night I was a 14 year old in love for the first time. We went from the swings at that hospital over the summer, suicide camp, remember? Do you remember that, Ben? When I first saw you I judged you. You were a filthy, 17 year old junkie and I was a 13 year old on a kamikaze mission. That time on the swings where we figured out life. How did we go from that to an abandoned shed where you shot me up with heroin for the first time? I was 14. The closest I've ever been to another human being. With those drugs we became one. The drugs that took you away from me. Your death altered the path of the rest of my life. I loved you and you loved me, but you needed those drugs. Or maybe they needed you? Because they sure as hell stole your soul and ended your life. Ever since then I've tried to replace you, the boy whom I last loved was almost an incarnation of you if he wasn't so selfish. So goddamn sadistic. Fuck he even LOOKED like you. But he wasn't you, he was just another cheap imitation, a shallow reproduction, just another person to try to re-do our life with. He wasn't you and he'll never be you and I tried to love him and look where that got me. Ha. What I'd give to have you here with me now. Alive and well, listening to Black Flag drinking shitty beers laughing and bickering about cigarettes. Oh... It hurts. I was left with a void I've yet to be able to fill. But you taught me how to love, how it was so simple and perfect and beautiful and it's in that love that you're still here. You're right here... And I love you so very much.
To the fires and to the falls and to the violations of my body and mind. To that assault on a late night street in Brooklyn, to the stolen money and stolen things, to the highs and the lows and the loves I've lost and the love I've gained. To late-night hospital trips, to those perfect nights where clarity came after all. To the undercity, to weekends in jail, to that first sunrise coming up over the very same bridge you tried to kill yourself on. To that very suicide attempt that brought me my new lover. To you and me and everyone else we know.
So yeah, here's to the future where I won't fuck up, where I give love away because it's just that easy. Maybe someday you'll understand, you'll see it the way I do. Maybe someday YOU will LOVE too.
Love is all that matters. Love is ALL that matters.
I'll get it all out there someday, the first step is to commit words to paper, thoughts to reality. I'm so young and I feel so old sometimes but goddamn I'm 20 and everything's just begun. Spread the love and spread the light.
Hallow the body as a temple to comeliness and sanctify the heart as a sacrifice to love; love recompenses the adorers.
I forgot what it means to write every single damn day.
I used to update this journal every day. Every single goddamn day. The entries are almost all gone (Deleted, Archived? I don't know.) but there's enough there to remind me of what I used to be.
I forgot how terrible the summer of 2009 was. The beginning of my End. Two years later I'm still struggling to be normal again and survive on my own. Two years after the same situations have presented themselves again and again and again.
I sleep constantly. I can't keep any of the friends I make. I've had two extremely bad relationships in the last year that I kept completely secret that nearly killed me. I'm never happy. I can never be fucking happy.
But I somehow made it to New York. I fucking came here and have everything I could ever dream of. Well, why am I so off balance? Why am I not centered? I've lived here for 7 goddamn months and have nothing to show for it.
Fast track: Here's the deal. Getting my own place on the 1st of August, starting acting class July 12th. Firefly is this weekend. What perfect timing to find that journal entry. Leave Adam, go to Firefly, renew my spiritual energy and refocus, start acting class, save up my money, get into my own place, solitude. No boyfriends! They are trouble.
I will be whole again and it will take time but I'm so close I can taste it. Grown up Chrissi here we go.
