This came at the right time. I felt all the sadness, the lonelyness, the isolation of living with the self. And from the self. Small, unworthy, unlovable so limited, and limiting life to...a silly, fearful afair of survival, how on Earth to not be a stranger, an alien, how to be loved, and the most important question, how not to live from there. This very sad, small place. I know we are supposed to hide those realizations, moments, but this isn't about Maria. It is about everyone of us. We share this sad condition. I think it is better to be honest, even in inappropriate ways, then to pretend as society asks of you.
I wrote this on Facebook. Below a video of Dalai Lama talking about negative thoughts/emotions. Because I have been blogging here. Asking my imaginary God to love me. Without directly turning to him. I have also restricted myself . Have tried to act like...I don't know...someone sane, agreeable, responsible, normal, adult, BUT, who is the world? And why give it the censored? Don't we create the world with our every breath, move, action, word, food, plastic container, but most importantly with the way we interact? And writing to me has come as a sad inefficient way to turn to you. As a substitute for talking...
And maybe I will always talk to air, who winks, smiles, taps my sholder and says: "Relax girl, being simple isn't in fashion. No one will ever listen, or respond to these poorly put concerns . Take a walk. "
"Walks are nice. I have stopped walking just to see the trees, and to open space for beauty. Traded it for production. Cause I thought that's all others care about. "
"Go to bed now."
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