The simplicity of life pleases me, eases me, frees me from all false belief, from that which I have seen and lived and loved and failed. I tried to do, to show and prove, to be this thing that would be good. Good as in safe. From attack. Except that’s all I wanted though I couldn’t see it. I was too far gone into the world of pain.
Now. Mmm now. Now it is odd (as in new) to be in Purgatory getting my purification onn. I’m able to see and to feel without going through the Looking Glass. I’m able to release myself of who I have been without grieving for my loss. Though it hurts and it stings and I know where the scars and wounds lie, no longer do I repress nor do I caress my pain. I simply observe it as in, when I see it, it evaporates.
I’ve been reading Ellis, as in Bret, going backwards by going forwards and it’s .. ineffable ..
I’m smiling to myself cause I lose the thread and you know I never even cared if I had a thread until Mr. Ex conveyed the beauty of it. A tapestry takes countless threads, each layered in sequence and when observed up close, it is abstract because the closer you come to Truth the more irrational it is.
And so it has been me, weaving along, no clue what the picture is, and that’s kinda blonde. I love not-knowingness; it is the mark of the Fool. It’s not that I need to make plans, it’s that I’d like to have some, well, guidance though I wonder if that’s an illusion, too.