You exist for a reason.
The deeper the pain, the more universal that pain is. Perhaps we are all tormented to varying degrees. My greatest accomplishment is that I am still alive. Sleeping by the cliffs of time, one feels BEING well across the horizon. Perhaps this is a novel that will abandon itself: a story that will abandon itself as the surface layers break and crack and the warmth and light of god drowns the world.
The consciousness encased in flesh begins to awaken and one begins the process once again. We find a small tribe of frequency-holders to share this love. In a world full of tribes deluded by time, by delusion, by ego, one has a chance to survive and thrive.
These monsters are our spiritual training. They are our brothers and sisters trapped in delusion, in time, in One grand master narrative. And we’ll write stories about their delusion. That’s what writers do. And we’ll form judgments and narratives about all Others because we have forgotten as well that they are our brothers and sisters. And we’ll live according to beliefs that are not in alignment with god… because we are tribes ruled by ego (and not god).
And to abandon time, and to abandon judgement and fear and hatred would be asking too much of our tribe that has written its false self in time.
I am stone cold sober and losing my fucking mind. And this is why I write.