When do we stop asking questions? We don't get fed up and ask "what the hell is really going on here" because no one really knows, and if someone gives you an answer you should be suspicious. At times I seem to expect a neatly-packaged explanation for everything when such a thing does not appear to exist. I am capable of shutting off my reactionary babbling mind, but returning to the state in which it rules our every moment I feel disoriented and confused. I have no idea who to trust when my own mind seems to willingly guide me down a dead end path promising something enlightening. I don't know what to do with my life sometimes. When I find someone who I think will help me reach my goals, they are headed in the opposite direction in which I am and it's always my fault and I'm aware of it. I just don't know enough to give any sort of good advice. Things are at a standstill where I wonder if I should give up for the good of my peers. I have always felt like a burden to everyone and everything around me, it is embedded in my existence that I am a self-aware parasite which feeds off of the love of others without returning a single thing. Am I wrong if I am correct and know that what I'm doing is false, or am I wrong if I am completely unknowing of this process and it happens automatically because I am inherently evil? In what situation am I ever right about anything? Why do I always want to win?
Reflecting upon myself brings the extreme opposites of joy and pain. There is no dogma I wish to apply to reality and that is the way I want it. I will only observe and connect events and symbolic phenomena as I please. The less I consider something, the more likely it is to happen. When I set a model of an event with neutrality in mind, it appears before me in 3rd density quicker than I can blink. Maybe that makes me some sort of opportunist.
When I realize I am wrong about one thing, I begin wondering what other things I am completely wrong about. I seem to view the world as a place full of traps and hostility, and so far it has proven to be such a place, but only in situations where nebulous, plutonic agencies seem to rule. I have taken most things for granted. Even now, I have taken a place among geniuses and artists I respect highly, experts in their field, and am using this opportunity to spread negativity and unhappiness. I can't describe the shame I feel in myself when I think of where their work has taken my life and my understanding of things, yet I continue to feel fragmented, incomplete.
Was I ready to receive what I did, when I did?
A recent dream told me that I am a "dolt". I lack confidence. Every relationship in my life has been cut short by my selfish actions. I can only envision a true existence, it eludes my consciousness. Does it not want me there? If I am "the one", I am one unworthy of any sort of true spiritual existence the way imagine it. I am in a room of mirrors, my reflections displaying their disgust towards my being. I speak the words of one about to give up everything and disappear forever, yet I know I am here eternally. At this point I have only one option: get used it. Get over it. Keep searching. Keep going. Stomach's knotted, feeling my soul is made of fragile spiderwebs, a beautiful thing undeserving of the hate which I unleash upon myself.
I think I need help.
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