[Morning Freewrite]

I do not feel better.  But I do not feel worse.  Or rather I feel as though a coping strategy is taking over.  I am not free right now.  Neither am I taken.  I have nothing to support mself.  I have nothing to keep myself going.  There is still the emptiness.  The void.  But I am putting a bridge over it.  Or something of some immaterial substance (it has no purpose of its own, but it has a sense of existence.)  I am not dealing well eveen now.

Who is it that steps briskly from the edge and looks over who they are to find themselves adn backs away?  What sanity would lose itself in so bright a star?  Where does the twisted path lead if not towards infinity?  Heaven and hell are the same if not diffreent.

I look into the sould of self nad find a lack exists that cannot be recompensed.  There is nothing but a sea of emptiness at the heart.  I need to fill?  Or perhaps to understand.  Can emptiness be understood and loved or does emptiness sweep all before it?

I wish that I could leave myself now.  Leave what is and flow away.  Flow towards.  Flow....  I cannot continue.  There is nothing but wreckage left.

I I I gibbering fool.  Looking from depression into the light.  I I I find nothing that makes me happy.  I wish only to hide.  I wish to hide myself from all that exists.  In hiding can I find peace?  In hiding I can find solitude.  In hiding I am looking for escape.  But escape from my own self is futile.  I cannot hide from it.  Do I fear my judgemets of myself?  Or do I fear the judgements of others?  Or is judgement nothing of anything?  Is judgement not a factor in the death of self.

Where art though Goat?  Merrit McDonald?  Who graced me with her presence and then disappeared.  Who dreams and cannot reconcile herself with those dreams?  Who frustrates her self at every turn?  I find that I wish to understand that to see if self-defeatism lies at my core as well.

There is an unholy pain within me.  I suffer it in angsty silence now.  Why is it there?  Why cannot I simply remove it -- it has no cause that I can see -- it merely exists.  Why does it exist?  Why cannot I leave it behind?  What of its nature or my nature forces us to travel yet together?  Is it a flaw?  Is it peculiar to me?  Is it a true nature of reality that I have seen and therefore must grasp.  Mut hold to.  Must understand before it lets go of me?  Is this the end or the beginning?  Is this what means and makes things or what drops and binds things away?

There are two minutes left and I  want to escape this orbit of pain but cannot.  There is a certain fatal glow to it.  Mtoh-like I swim into its glow.  Bask beneath its sun.  Is it because I cannot undertsand it tha I dwell?  Is it because it is hurtful that I stay?  Is it because It feels good to die with each breath?  Am I punishing myself?  Or is this truth?  Is this reality?  Have I found myself and need only to acknowledge that?

One minute.  Contemplationt of something joyous would be nice.  But joy has turned bitter within my mouth.  Christmas trees of gaity seem but ashlike.  Tormentors of me.

[End morning Freewrite]