Again?

Honestly...

I'm sad when I wake up in the morning to a beautiful place where I have so few friends. I wish someone would stay here for as long as I'm here, so we can do what friends do and have a great summer.

And so far the summer has been very challenging in that respect. But, please, understand that I am a privileged white boy. I don't have to work or go anywhere or do anything. I live in a place of great potential. I take it all for granted every day and I beat myself up for it because my education taught me to be disappointed.

And to be an adult, to reach that plane, one must move beyond old paradigms.

Old paradigms wake with me in the morning and go with me to bed, as do the new paradigms.

I need a huge paradigm shift. I need someone to come down from heaven and wake my ass up and make it very clear to me as to what's at stake, what the hell I'm doing to undo myself, what I'm missing, what I can do, and so on...

Last night I was calling myself out on nearly everything that one could fixate their attention on. Yes, selfish, yes, mindless consumer, yes, yes, yes, all of that.

I was laying near the fire pit, dozing off, and I listened to the others around the fire objectify me. Not me, but the body they see and know as Aha. I am so much more than that, but you know how that goes. Anyway, I could feel a "he's weird" energy around the fire when they mimicked my idiosynchrocies. "Uh-huh, uh-uh." I got up to go to my tent, I didn't want to be around that energy, and someone said, "Goodnight, Himler."

Oh dear God get me out of here.

I'm taking it personally. I choose to. I don't want to be around people who objectify me. You can objectify my work, but not me. I am nothing.

The thing to remember is that when you die you're going to be leaving a lot behind. Everything you've created to create a "self" will stay behind. All your stories, all your dramas, all your stuff, it's all going to stay behind when whatever you really are moves on.

Or something like that.

So I don't want to be around people who are not aware of that. Young, cool-acting kids.

I want to be around people who are sensitive.

The more you resist something, the more it presses on you.

Why the hell do we live with this? Why can't the universe reflect something like, when you resist something, you get away from it and it gets away from you.

I don't get it.

Ugh. Now I have a headache. Maybe it's a sign that I'm purging something or bringing something to the surface, so let's keep going. I don't feel better, but what the hell. I'm frustrated and I don't know what else to do.

Let's start again. I don't want to be here. Why? I have no friends here. I'm bored out of my wits. I would rather shoot myself. At this point, to leave my body would be heaven. It's me versus them. They smoke tobacco and have habits that I allow myself to get sucked into and then I'm just lost lost lost. I'm blaming them. I'm blaming them because they don't create space for healthy living. But what is that? I'm sure they're wonderful people. So, it's not them. It's me. It's how I'm reading this moment right now. It's how I'm using it with my mind.

I want to go home and sleep. I want to lay next to another man's body and hold on for dear life. I want to cry and lose myself a little bit and be humbled. I want to start over again. I want to get back on my feet.

What can I do?

I can pack up what I've got and leave. Just go. Leave the sanctuary. If I stay here, I continue to desire death, because I feel incredibly unworthy of living, of living near natural springs. I don't always desire death. I don't even desire. I just move around space, lost, dumping everything out, thinking and thinking, and going crazy, and all the usual.

Again, I ask the universe, God, to please send friends. Do I have to be specific? What am I missing here? What am I not seeing? What's really going on? I don't get it. I don't get why I'm here watching this movie. Can you imagine watching a movie and half-way through, the main character turns toward the camera, weeping hysterically, bashing against the glass, crying out, get me out of here, please, I don't want to be in this movie. I want to be with you, in a park, as a child, where the mind is still fresh, making up stuff.

I'll just go for another walk now.