0 Anything is possible!
I apologetically tried to convey that our childhood trauma did not sum constructively and that was why it was a silly enterprise to attempt to be her friend.
A flock of birds swooped over us quite charismatically. I giggled in regards to their grace. I was a little heart broken when the flock split in two–super enamored when they re-converged. Really perplexed when I noted that two birds went renegade completely.
I wanted to ‘be’ with her, which is to say I had an agenda that maybe required another degree of complexity than feeling lead on all the time.
Do not worry, I told her.
Do not worry, I am completely aware of my role in feeling lead on all the time.
I apologetically tried to convey that our childhood trauma did not sum constructively and that was why it was a silly enterprise to attempt to be her friend, presently.
And I tried bringing up my qualms but she aptly claimed she had no idea what I was talking about. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was in the real life and although it can kill me, it can also bring me yachts and love.
The truth is I was going to choose every operative signal that she’d ever send in my general vicinity as “Try harder to make me see you as sexually viable, Johann” until, eventually, I would fake my own death and try the whole overture in a different persona and haircut.
Because anything is possible!
1. merciful rhetoric
Sometimes I feel like I am the shittiest self-coach on the planet. Like I get myself into heavy weight boxing matches and right before I go into the ring I start appealing to lofty statistically reaching circumstances.
“Listen maybe the guy will have a heart attack–maybe he’ll have a dark night of soul and resign from his life of violence–give your opponent an opportunity to experience a physiological and/or mental breakdown and profit.”
Because anything is possible!
two.. own up / let go [or obsess]
I love art because it allows us to ornate fantasies and bait each other into a shared disposition. It is a big risk, to not try to cope yourself out of an obsession, because the fruits may be your sibling explaining to their child why art is a bad idea–“Look what happened to your fat uncle Johann! He moans an amalgamation of all the girls that ever rejected him’s names. Study Global Warming.”
I hate that the imagination has to be represented in reality and that even in rejection I can’t just accept ~*things didn’t work out*~.
What about my feelings? Beautiful girl–why are my feelings not adequately represented in your mind? Why do flocks of birds diverge?
A while ago I called my friend and asked if he’d come with me to this comedy showcase thing. I ended up forgetting my wallet. We drove around and talked about my afflictions in my car my parents bought me that I need to clean. Here’s how it played out:
I said something to the extent of: “Oh no I thought this girl and I would have been awesome together and it didn’t work out does life still go on?”
And then he called me entitled. Never thought about my whininess in that light, so of course that’s all I think about.
Who am I in relation to my mind?
A spoilt dream lad who, upon experiencing a divergence of my expectations to the real world, would very much like that divergence explained.
Unfortunately, divergent flocks of birds cannot be requested for one on one interviews.
four…. When things go ‘wrong’
When things go wrong, I take it personally–I try to internalize it, model it, deconstruct it.
I can’t help but feel that thinking is an inherent exercise in making the deathy unknown into the familiar totality. I sit at cafes and think thoughts and try to share them and when someone goes “Totally!” a huge onslaught of confetti reigns from the sky and I cherish the confirmation of existence.
I get to be entitled to the thought because I could share it or something.
I mean even as I was walking to the cafe I bumped into someone and said hello and before we parted ways she said, “Keep on making videos they are funny.”
Make no mistake I used this interaction as a means to envision a beautiful convergence of the real world and my imagination, both of them enamored at each other until they reach the tipping point and go into full make out.
Regardless of my brutal imagining of radical trans-narcissistic self-heaven, simple gestures like that can completely alleviate existential anxieties. Folded in that compliment in passing are two very critical points that I definitely love to hear:
- I exist
- and I’m ok
five…. i exist, it didn’t work out, and it’s ok [methods in unwronging]:
The concession of existing is not an easy one. There are other strategies. Disassociation–taking prolonged naps, binging on shitty tv shows and deconstructing their mass social viability–I have done them all.
Owning up to the passions is attempting to make your signs in your relation to the eerie cosmos, I think. Those signs could not be the most effective way to represent stuff. But they are your signs. In regards to your feelings. In regards to your ability to take in the world vividly.
Heart break means you attempted to affirm a way you saw the world. You were heavily involved in the process. It is the path of existential impetus. It is ok to be proud about that.
Maybe it is ok to abide amongst flocks of birds.