In Between Worlds

"How wonderful it is that I have gone through all this darkness!" She shouted. "The light looks so much brighter in here." She has climbed all night, year and winter to reach this place just to look back into the dark depths she came from. Just sitting and staring on the edge of the pit, paralyzed. Love Intuition Moratorium Boring Observations It was not long till she realized the light behind her had refracted all her frustrated energy on the surface of the cold slippery walls altering them rapidly. Where there was nothing but a blank stone now was a surface inhabited by miraculously communicating vines, growing aside with nourishing soil of moss and possibility, an enormous breathing fabric made of little petals of her pulsating brain flower glistening through the water drops, listening to her thoughts as if they were somehow connected to her neural networks via osmosis. "When I was in the light I did not see all this. I was too distracted. Or maybe...

I am good at building walls before my realistic goals. Calling them dreams generally has made them mystical enough for me to think I have to learn some kind of magical powers before I can enter them. Imagine going to a vaguely interesting show, may it be a play of an average story, a film of a genre you do not particularly like or a mediocre stand-up comedy or a mundane job of self-repeating tasks with an plausible salary and become satisfied only because everyone else approves your intention. What are the inner movements that effect the quality of our experiences? Am I trying to balance my sensation of experiences by trusting too much in the external forces? How would you rather be measured outside? Outcome: we either settle for average and what might seem safe and lose ourself in the process OR  get sick and start reaching out for greater things and learn to be persistent on demanding what we really deserve as an act of healing. All these attributes we gain in the long run o...

Fuck, I thought. I was grotesquely interrupted while having a supposed time of my life binge drinking and recovering from a break-up with a man who was a functional alcoholic. It's ironic to drink for broken heart reasons and because you miss someone from the bar: you'll only end up spending time in the places you used to drink together with a nasty chance of running into the person. Talk about masochism! Please block the pity sex contacts so that you can go ring a doorbell at 4am pretending you are lost because you are but not in this reality. So one day I got pregnant on a drinking spree. Indeed a fun anecdote to spill in random parties to total strangers strongly believing they will think that "Wow she has gone trough that! She is so cool to have killed an unborn featus, twice!" But in this case the party happens in my head and all these situations I am describing are half make-believe. A way to get through the day and rid of painful abstract thought patterns. ...