I get into the most trouble when I try to hold on. It doesn’t matter what it is: an idea, a thought, a feeling, a relationship, an experience- none of it serves the ME in the end. What’s harder? Trying to let go? Trying to let go of: an idea, a thought, a feeling, a relationship, an experience- either way, the cluster fuck seems to be in the “trying”.

Could it be the ME is drawn to self-imposed suffering; a non-stop, commercial-free, one way fearful trip to a future that never arrives?

I live an extraordinary life and yet I wake up to battle everyday. I don’t give myself a break until hours after I’m conscious. Sometimes, I’m relieved that in 20 years I’ll probably get to punch my time card for the last time and retire to the Afterlife. I put in my time on Earth. I won’t be needing a gold Apple watch either.

There is respite. Today,

I find comfort in my  thoughts or they can be my worse enemy.

When my mind is searching around, waiting to land on the roulette wheel of emotions, I can easily fall to existential angst or the latest shooting/attack/atrocity (#Munich #CharlesKinsey #TrumpSpeech) for suffering solace. Or perhaps because the first love encounter you are writing for your character turns into a sexual assault.

Perhaps the trick is forging ahead (“just keep swimming”) and keep that augmented reality in the background.

Perhaps I have to let go of this notion.

7/24/16

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