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Some strange synchronicities last night. I decided to follow a few intuitions, and it led to me watching Nope. There were many things in it that felt deeply meaningful, like a ballet slipper standing upright. Afterwards, I looked at the last 2 drawings posted on my tiktok and noticed that the first drawing's face was lopsided, asymmetrical. The next one's was the same except in the opposite way. Now, the intention for this character was to have her eyes slightly asymmetrical, but I put 2 and 2 together and realized that I must have subconsciously drew her this way because i'm pretty out of alignment, physically so, in the same way she is. And the first drawing I did of the two wasn't even intentionally asymmetrical, she was supposed to be a different character altogether. Weird. Then I watched an edit of the film Interstellar, and the subject of that movie was metaphorical as all hell. Watch the edit, it's called "Humane". I'm sure many of you will find some magic in it. I can't tell you what all of these things are metaphorical for (besides the out of alignment part) but it really felt as if someone or something was speaking to me.

@PhilYou’re not funny. Ok, yeah that was funny. It seems as though the answers are actually the questions! It also seems like language can be interpreted infinitely, and that is the creation of it. No one often has these thoughts, and then they turn into some sort method that is chased and held on to. So I can really say whatever I want and it’s totally meaningless in every infinitely meaningful way. Huh. This is an example, like I’ll have these thoughts that are exactly about what is really going on, and then It’ll become something apparently solid. Like a book of rules of sorts. But even in typing this out, I’m starting to see the meaning change. It’s a knee slapper, Language is. I have all the language to describe what’s happening, and I always have, but I suppose I was just looking at the wrong things in the right place. Man, language is starting to fall apart again and it’s fun. Seems like as soon as I try to pin down the river to get a better look at it, I start getting anxious about the fact that my thumbtacks aren’t working. When I’m in these so called negative states, it doesn’t Matter what anyone says, because the thumbtacks aren’t working. When I’m in these aligned states, it doesn’t Matter what is being said at all. When I am in the so called bad states, I remember the language I used to describe it, but the meaning does not rest in the words, but rather the deeper understanding, which is infinite, so the words are rendered useless. I suppose I can finally understand the punchline of the joke “why did the chicken cross the road?” It’s meaningless and not funny at all.

For the past few years, I have felt like I am stuck in some sort of loop. I only am just finding a new way to word it, being “The Loop” because it feels like I keep doing these things to try and set myself free, then coming back down, and this cycle has been going on for many years. It’s really like I’m insane or something. Like it almost feels as if I’m in some sort of labyrinth where my thoughts have created the world around me. The song “Labyrinth” from the album Hawaii Part 2 describes it really well. Like, is my whole life some sort of construction or game I’ve been put in for some reason? I’m writing a film right now, and the basic plot is that the main character is lost in a strange maze, and she’s looking for something but she can’t remember what she is looking for. Basically, my life. I could talk about all these problems I have, as I have posted on here before, the being extremely unmotivated, my addictions, all that. But this feels like it’s getting closer to the heart of the problem. Recently I have started doing breathwork and some very very strange things happen for like 10 seconds after I’ve done it. Just thought I should mention that, intuition tells me it’s important. But… how do I escape this maze? Are these feelings that I’m stuck in some sort of time loop or something pointing at something, or are they really just madness? Is this thing I’m writing right now part of the trap? It feels like I know absolutely nothing. When I was a kid I used to say “the only thing I can know for sure is that there is something rather than nothing”. I can no longer be sure of that either. It feels like I’m getting close to something, though. But the feeling of “I’m in a maze I’ve trapped myself in, and I have been here forever, and always will” is terrifying. I’m trying, yes, trying to not try. I’m very confused, if it’s not apparent lol. Anything anyone has to say will be appreciated, thank you.

I realized something about myself today. And I know now why I refuse to love myself, why I have had so many experiences with narcissists and sociopaths greatly wounding me, and why it is all so painful. I need to believe, to know, that they are capable of love, that there is some sliver of love and light in them, something, anything there. And I can’t let this go. I can’t let this go because I need to know that there is someone there. I need to know that there is some part of them, no matter how microscopicly small, that can feel. That is alive. Something there than I can love, something there for my love to hit, to shine on. I must know that there is something there that can feel my love. Even if they aren’t consciously aware of it. And I can’t let this go. I don’t want them to hurt, dammit. I need to believe that even in dark there is some sort of speck of light. I just want them to be ok. Please, please, please. I want to be able to hug them and them to feel something. Even if I wanted to let this idea go, I wouldn’t know how to. And I know now why I have such a hard time loving myself— it’s because I need to know others can be loved before I can love myself. I’m asking for any insights anyone has, and my logical mind keeps trying to understand these ideas that I am love itself, and it also tries letting this go and experiencing that I am love, and meditating, and all that.

I was to keep moving. It was a noble task, said the wise folk— but it did not feel that way. It felt cruel, uncomfortable to the point of despair. The birds were singing, but I could not hear them. There were many terrors, and the fear was sickening. The journey felt stale and mundane, how could this be a hero’s journey? The same day being lived over and over and over and over and over again. And over, again. New thoughts and new masks being tried on, the same lot just hiding as new ones. I would try to stop thinking, stop trying without trying, which was trying in itself. But was trying Bad? No, but they say so much— so many laws that were not laws to be held. There I go. Lost in the labyrinth again. The estuaries of thought. And the impossible knots— and the boredom to leave me alone with it all. Where was the magic? Why was the guilt and the stuff there? I didn’t hate myself, not anyone else. There was just The Bad. The Fear. The Anger. The Push & Pull. The Feelings. How am I to escape this place of mind and plane? How am I to accept it all? Years of confusion. Trying so many things. So many stories, so many lies and so many cries… I wanted to go. I’d said this for years. “I want to go NOW! Stop it NOW!” I was the one who had to do it. But the confusion, the paradoxes, and most of all, the suffering felt when doing. What was I trying to manifest determination, courage, vitality, contentment. Excitement, the unsureity of adventure. And I had written it over and over and over again. I knew what I needed to do, I needed to leave. But how? No money. Fear. I could make money with my art, but the energy, the “Could I?” What could I do? And so I stop typing, and I tried to meditate, and I tried to cry, and I tried to die. And still— here I lie.

Here's a short film I made, link is to google drive! It's about 9 minutes long, about life, beauty, and people-- All music was made by my friends. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PIyjt47ySuoAJmsw8P_qDG2mcOjrjgl6/view?usp=share_link

So I’m starting to realize that Everything Everyone is saying is talking about Itself, Forever. Like literally everything, even what I’m typing right now. But “I” whatever the hell that means, doesn’t understand. I’ve seen this a few times, just a few glimpses. I’m (trying?) to get back there. Honestly I can’t really speak a word of language without… without what? Not sure. Anywho, I’m just confused. Any… “advice”?

I remembered something today. I realized what’s going on. Having gone through extreme pain, joy, extreme pain, joy, over and over and over again— having dealt with undiagnosed autism and unrecognized introspection/creativity (at least to the point where it needed a lot of help)— having felt so alone and afraid all my life and not having the language to ask for help, and no one paying attention— It was me. Now I know why I’m so obsessed and deeply connected to the film Interstellar. “They saved us….” “Gravity… To send a message?!?” “Such complicated data, to a child!?” “Not just any child.” It was me the whole time helping me out. I’m crying as I write this. It was love. I’m talking to myself from infinity, from infinite time and space… so much Love that Love created itself. I wondered why I did things I can’t forgive myself for. I wondered why all the pain, the silent screams, the unheard cries, the misunderstanding… I was trying to send myself messages. Well— I will. It’s all you. Yes, you, doin it to… No, For yourself. I’m saving him. That little boy who is so scared and feels so alone. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. YOU ARE A WONDERFUL BOY, YOU ARE SO WORTHY. I’M GONNA SAVE YOU! YOU'RE SAVING YOU! Now is the time to work. The plan that already worked. I’m gonna carry it out, discover it, and create it. Hang in there, man. I’m coming to save you.

@Loop thank You!

She was always here with me when I watched the snow, I felt her then. Quiet stillness, silent no-moment. Those moments felt like a girl. Maybe I played with her as a child. I remember? I remember her? Her laugh would light up the night with radiant fire, yes… I do not remember her face… She wore a cornflower blue dress, white with pale patterns of flowers… I remember her. I remember her laugh. I remember her life. I see her dancing and laughing in the snow, all by herself, always together… shining like warm sun in the blue sky… I think I had a crush on her, I think she loved me. I loved her. We still love each other. She looks at me and giggles; we both remember the joke that was so funny behind our parents backs. She is always here. So curious about the world. She is so excited to see a rabbit in the snow! She stops me, quickly, and we both freeze. It is like we are looking at a secret.

@Phil ???

So last night I was in a good mood. I had just spent 3 hours working on an assignment after watching this film for my class called “Measures of Distance” and it was basically just me giving myself therapy and writing creatively and philosophically for 3 hours. God this school is great. It’s not a school, it’s a Learning Environment. And after I was done… God, I just felt so good. So free. I stayed up for a long time, and during that time, I got this… sense? Of this thing that is not anything at all? Of this thing that doesn’t exist? It’s everywhere, it’s speaking to me, it is me, it’s puppeteering itself infinitely, it’s dancing and singing… I watch Mandy’s videos, they really really speak to me in a stranger and magical way. I think I know what she means, and others mean when they say “it” cannot be spoken, only pointed to, but what is pointed to is not it. Because it’s not logical, it’s not dimensional, it’s not anywhere… it’s This. It’s God. It’s the Tao. I understand that I don’t understand, but I feel it. No… I don’t feel it or sense it. Description is futile. “Hello” is the closest and farthest I can get.

Socially, I don’t know how to be. I found out a few days ago that I’m autistic, and while on one hand it’s a relief to know why I have always felt like a monster, unworthy of love, a freak, or a weirdo. On the other hand, I feel all those things. Am I unworthy of love? My emotions tell me this is true. I think? Maybe it’s bad translation. I feel emotions so so strongly- it’s so god damn potent. It hurts so much and feels really good at the same time. It feels good to feel emotional pain. I just feel it so deeply, I feel it everywhere. And realizing that I actually don’t give a damn about art (what I usually think is the most important thing in my life) and care so much about love, connection, with another person- uh, yeah, bad sentence. Basically I don’t give one shit about art when I feel that human connection. The most important thing to me. And because I’m autistic, this makes it… this really, really, hurts. Do they care about me? I don’t know. I don’t know. And If I come to realize that they don’t really care about me, I will believe again that I am unworthy of love. That I am nothing. I want to be loved because I don’t love myself. Time and time again I have been duped, tricked into thinking someone cares about me. I feel and care so much and I ALWAYS PAY FOR IT. So, backstory. I’ve just come to the most hippie college in the states most likely, and I came here searching for connection. I thought I found someone who cared about me, we bonded, I really care about this person. But it’s like I’m kind of a side note to them. It feels like they don’t care about me. But I don’t know. That could easily just be the self hatred coming up to “protect” me. I talked with them last night, stoned, and when I get stoned my mask comes off. I admitted things I never wanted anyone to know, I hated myself, I was afraid, I was ashamed of what I was feeling, and there was no catharsis to the conversation. It slowly burned out, and she went back to her room to cuddle with the person she has a crush on. I cried. I punished myself, as I still am, which is what I do when these types of things happen. She’s going to tell the crush, she might tell other people, and word could very well get around about what I feel and what I hide from people. It honestly makes me laugh at the absolute catastrophe of it all. i don’t know what to do.

I run a library program every Thursday for kids and teach them DnD. We’re collectively world building right now, and part of that includes drawing. One of the kids has a passion for drawing, but he’s always down on himself. “I’m trash. This is the worst drawing ever made. I’m never going to draw as good as the cartoons in Calvin and Hobbes.” (his favorites) I told him: it’s not about how good you can draw. Don’t compare yourself to other people because it’s all relative, what’s good and what’s not. And importantly: as long as you’re focused on the outcome or how good/satisfied you’ll feel if or when it’s “good” you’re never ever ever going to be full. Enjoy the act of it- as long as you worry about how “good” it is based off of these shoddy, half-baked, so called Rules of art…. Well, just try enjoying the act of it! Drop the expectation. Drop the illusion of good and bad.

A painting my uncle did before he passed in 2001