The only reason why I need people in my life, is to be reminded that they are never to be trusted or relied on.
A simple reminder for everyone:
Just know, in the back of your head, but try to keep it close to the surface of your heart, that when it comes down to the real essence, there is exactly nobody there for you. Regardless the cause or nature of your troubles. Regardless if it’s trouble or perhaps even happiness you have to share. There is nobody who really cares, nobody you can count on. You have nobody.
So feel free to get connected, involved or attached with anyone. Just remember this one truth until your last breath. Nobody.
You will only, always only, have yourself. In your best and in your worst moments, in the center of that moment, it’s always just you. You are born alone, you live alone, and you will die alone. Others come and go and might stay for a while and you may enjoy their company. But don’t fool yourself with thinking that they are there for you. They are, just like you, only there for themselves. It’s their right and their prerogative also, as it is your duty to come to this awareness. You need nobody.
It’s the loneliest realization to ever make, but it’s necessary to prevent any further disappointment and protect yourself from rejection and every form of hurt. Accept misery from…exactly, nobody.
It’s easy once you get it. You will always have nobody. No matter how deeply they love you, no matter how many unconditional promises were planted in your fertile soil of optimists belief. No matter how close and compassionate they may seem, they are never going to be there for you when you actually need them. That is a promise I can make in the name of the universe.
alone
Stop looking.
He kept showing my only each and all of the reasons why I broke up with him in the first place. Every time we’d interact, he’d whip out another classic example of his asshole self, his selfish behaviors, his grave lack of responsibility, his inability to care, try, reflect or understand, his stubborn stuck up spoiled blown up ego and pride that he continued to hide behind.
So I had to stop looking. I had to look away and stop feeding the person that I hated he’d become with my attention and frustration. I realized only now that this person he was becoming, thrived on my anxiety and my attempts to bring out the best of him gave him fuel to desperately keep holding on control over himself.
My obsessiveness, I shall admit, must’ve enabled him to retreat from willingness to arrogance.
Yet he truly was convinced he was evolving as a person. But growth and evolution are a one way direction. You can’t grow into a littler man. He was becoming less of himself by trying to be free, while he already was.
Still, his life so his choice, his prerogative. But I wasn’t willing to stand idly by and let that happen to the man I love. I tried my everything to make him see and realize what he was doing and what he was letting happen, but there is only so much one person can do for another until it crosses outside of your jurisdiction. It wasn’t up to me.
So I’m not looking anymore. I’m walking away. My hands clean. My conscience clear. My heart emptied of dead weight. My soul cleansed from all the hurt and sorrow. No more of his drama in my tomorrow.
Although I might’ve been the cause and reason of all of this. I arrived in his life, shook it up and down, put pressure and pushed him, had extensive needs and expectations. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Whether I did this, or he. I don’t want it anymore. It’s holding me back from being myself, from my own journey, my growth, my evolution, my becoming of my self.
I will have to learn to fabricate a future for myself that doesn’t include him. Give up all my plans and dreams. Start all over, again.
Point the direction of my hope on myself again. Put my thoughts and feelings on a path surrounding myself. Pray for my own happy ending. By myself. Alone, as I’ve always been. With whomever I was.
The danger of a lone being.
The scariest part of being alone is not the loneliness.
It’s the forceful necessity to have only yourself to count on and deal with, in every situation, through every cognition and emotion, during every smile or teardrop, and every breath that falls too heavily.
While part of you suffers from urges to end all existence & an equally desperate part is looking anxiously to find purpose, still. Those being only two minor examples of the thousands and thousands of scattered pieces of self that constantly reflect and contradict one another.
It’s easy to get lost inside the mazes of your own heart and mind intertwined, when your soul feels trapped and the only way out is out of or through yourself. But what if there’s nothing, no one, outside of yourself to reach out to? Nobody you can truly trust, nobody to have meaningful interaction, nobody to share or exchange ideas and thoughts with, nobody to empathize or care with you.
I don’t claim to need anyone, but I don’t believe any person is capable of carrying their entire life by themselves one hundred percent of the time.
Of course, essentially, in all beginning and ending as well as most of the time in between, we are just ourselves by ourselves. But what becomes of this self, if it is only that connection you have… for days, becoming weeks, turning into months, building up to years. How does one grow out of themselves if all they have as reference, is their self, their own, alone, always…?
How dangerous can you become, by yourself, before interference becomes obvious? Who is to draw the line, but yourself, turning the whole thing into pure rhetorical irony?
To take it a little further, because why not? Or actually, because why not.
Who will then, when the line is drawn and interference becomes inevitable, be the one to step in between and flip the switch? Which switch would flipping become to have the mostly preferred result? What is this result supposed to be looking alike?
Who decides all this, or anything, the self that chose to become dangerous just because its possibility was an endless option, or the one who found cautiousness significant enough to inquire for change, or any of the other infinite varieties of self that have potential to be puzzled together from all the scattered pieces alone?
Be greatness that chose beginning, to become liberty.
I have only sadness
To carry me through
This darkened night
That chose.
To last a lifetime
Through me
I feel betrayed by
My own senses
By what I didn’t
Or what I might
Confused to say the least
I remember hardly
What I wanted or
Who I used to be
I suppose I also don’t
Know what lays next
Or who I’m supposed
To become.
I guess it’s up to me
Who ever that would be
Carefully separated
But chaotic in creation
Undermining my own
Greatness.
Over an urge
To persuade myself
Into dauntlessness
I have to be alone
Realizing every
Now and then, again
I don’t want to live
In loneliness
Or any kind of confinement
Any shape of concession
Any form of censorship
I crave freedom
Seeking liberation
From whatever
I cage myself in
Could quite possibly
Be…
My real mission
Here, in this life
At the very littlest
Beginning.
If any other
Are only additions to a truer essence of
What qualifies to define as my own
Liberty.
Killed.
“Leave me alone with a pen
and you’ll find yourself killed
at the end of the page.”
– Truth Beyond Mystery
Truth Beyond Mystery 