I can’t seem to contact myself as of late. I remember a time when I was unable to keep up with the thoughts emerging from my mind and now I seem so lost. I want what I can’t have. Isn’t that part of the human condition anyway? 

I’m floating down the river. I went to see another reader today. He's a blind man and has been reading cards for 45 years. He used the same analogy to describe this lag I'm experiencing. No I'm not crazy. Yes, I've lost sight of myself. I'm safe. I have nothing to fear. I could try being more pragmatic and I'm making efforts to, though I feel blind. And I am as of late...my mind's closed that door. I'm supposed to trust into this flow, but I can’t get along in water when my feet can’t reach the bottom. I tend to hyperventilate and flay about and pray someone would save me. But things are different now.

I got away from the past and got away from my failed union and I've had to do it for myself as of late. And I don't really find any joy in it. There's peace, when I'm out in nature. It's easy to bliss out in the sun. I don't want to deal with anyone's inner contradictions when I'm struck dumb by mine. But I have to start making money for myself and Lilo and I'm so uninspired. Perhaps greed might fulfill the need for a purpose, which I'm assuming is to serve others and guide them. But I have never felt so alone and don't really have a desire to 'connect' with the facades people constantly present to me.And I have no desire to guide people who are hellbent on making the same mistake over and over.

As I have, recently.

I can’t trust my heart when it continues attaching itself to men who do not feel love for me. I shook like a child the last time I held him. And I just wanted to get away because deep down inside I knew there was no place there for me. How do I trust myself when I keep making stupid decisions, trusting and opening myself to the wrong people? I hate myself for being unable to control myself sometimes and not be able to walk the fuck away even though the truth is right there for me to see. Wishful thinking remains my greatest fault.

The past three years have taught me that all time alone ever gives me is a deep desire to connect with others, more specifically someone. I have to work on the practical stuff now and I feel so discouraged. I have no desire to pick up the pen. I know I need to work on myself but what is there to work on? I’ve isolated us in order to find my way. The cards and the oracle says that is a good thing. I was surrounded by manipulative people before, people who pushed me away from my true self, wanted me to exchange my voice for a litany of shanti anecdotes and here I am a year later, still searching for it.  On paper, in thought…my jaw twitches and I want to open up and scream out frustration, but I don’t know how many people would understand.  I’m looking for serenity, whatever it means. 

Positive affirmations, some yoga. I need my own space, I guess I'm staring at more alone time. Maybe I just need to keep moving forward. I don't know anymore. I don't know. At least I still have my looks. Nice to know I'm not so fucking undesirable! Nice to know that he's not good for me. I knew it from the start. But I still tried. And got the same result. So that's what I call a waste of emotional energy...energy I should be keeping for myself.

It's so hard dealing with people who present a different version of themselves to me when I can sense something else and I'm tired of being around people who expect me to present a different version of what I'm feeling. So I'm done...and I need to perhaps build more anchors for myself before the cosmic eavesdrop bombardment begins again...and it will when I reach that mythical happy place ahead of me. This is only the beginning of my journey, after all.

I'm beginning to see that this book idea that I had a few years ago has slowly sipped into this reality and I'm now walking the path of the main character. I see her as a forever bitter crone who acts independently from her feelings and chooses only the wise and beneficial path. Probably by that stage she won't have any. Unless she meets a being who appreciates her.

It's not a matter of seeing myself worthy of love, because I always expect it (from the worst candidates) as much as I give it. But maybe I shouldn't expect. I shouldn't give it away either. Here I was thinking that I was being somehow selective by chasing the few men who illicit that intense pull but that is no indicator of the character (and nature which, not surprisingly, happens to be very polygamous) of these blokes which is one that isn't receptive to the idea of caring and respecting the likes of me so... I think I'm learning something here: Emotionally unavailable men who illicit that base impulse within myself are to be manipulated and baited like unconscious beasts. If I'm going to remain a fucking idiot and continue to seek out relations with that type, sex is a treat which should be withheld from the lusty brutes until they scram, or the moment they finally perceive an element of humanity in me, that is if they are attracted to my personality at all and make efforts to get to know me. Forget all that bullshit about wanting to know them and connect with them on a deeper level. It's all about conquest. 

As a teen I used to close my eyes and see, clear as day, these bricks I would wrap around myself. They were large, had rounded corners and shone like freshwater pearls. I've got walls but no roots, no anchor.  I've stomped on all feelings, even the maternal ones, and I have to control and discipline myself. I sacrifice all wishful fantasies, dreams and expectations chasing an indistinguishable goal. I'm holding on to myself. I'm the King of Cups on his Water Chariot.

I want off this throne of stone but I can't turn back.