It took me 5 years after the break-up to finally admit to myself that all these years what I have been trying to do was to prove her wrong. I was trying to reestablish the world that got shattered. I was trying to put it back together. I was unwilling to let her [image] go until I showed her and proved myself that she made the wrong call. For I was unwilling to give up idealizing her. I was unwilling to see that she doesn’t get me and buys no longer into me and that’s why she disrespects and mistrusts me now. Me, me, me, me. [The more] I projected my fearful hopes into her [the more] she projected her fears into me. We barely ever met. It had to end. I wanted to break up with myself too.



Protecting your exclusive viewpoint. Your vantage, that presumed advantage. It feels safe up there, soaring. So reassuring. Looking in from without. Seeing the folly, detached form all of it. Alienated from others involved in it and alienating others, too, from you. Insular. Is that what you truly intend to have given/gotten? Or do you want to ’come down’ after all? Be honest. That is the question: To be you or to be true? To be or to love?


I regret all the wasted opportunities to connect with you, to truly see and feel you. Forgive me. It was an innocent misunderstanding, though. I never thought I was worthy or deserving of unconditional care. I felt inadequate while at the same time superior to you all—cognitive dissonance turns on a blind spot, doesn’t it. How absurd. I was angry and I was endlessly frustrated, precisely to the extent that I was slowly opening up to ’’you.’’ Forgive me. I failed to show up fully. I feel remorse now—although, I know, intellectually and soon emotionally and viscerally too, it will slowly descend upon me, that you are inside of me and I am inside of you, that there is no need to repent really. All these years ’’I’’ have been meeting ’’myself’’ through ’’you’’ as ’’you’’ have been meeting ’’yourself’’ through ’’me.’’ Still, forgive me, my brothers and my sisters. I am here to strike back with all the love that I dare to open for and to open with.


As the ego is crumbling away a sense of solitude escalates. The illusion turns even more vivid and poor little me feels totally isolated, unappreciated, misunderstood, abandoned, misjudged, lonely and separate.

If they only saw what I can see. If they only had the wherewithal to look within like I do. Etc.

How Sh(c)rewed

The ego is an algorithm that is programmed to enact a catch 22 type loop wherein what it posits as desirable is rendered, by the same token, unattainable. Its function is to split the mind [so, evolutionarily, it becomes anxious enough to seek improving itself] and (ir)rationalize everything according to its agenda. That’s the reason why it wants to be seen by hiding and wants to prove itself by holding back—it’s totally illogical no matter how obsessively analytical it gets /as it’s so conspicuously borne & spelled out in my previous confessional posts/.