beauty will save the world

and through the sleepless nights and the loveless days i think i found the answer, now, here in the pages of the dhammapada and the dripping joyless ecstasy of uncertainty - it is to have no ties no connections to anything - not to other humans or food or drink or any other vices or anything anything at all - -- to be utterly and completely free. just be free, be clear, to not want anything, to be able to get up and go. to be silent and listen. to have no outward opinion, to not get involved. to say nothing in place of being cruel. to love everything and have the ability to love everything for the sheer reason that you are detached - completely and utterly free of all ties to anyone, anything. the character ivan in dostoevskys 'the brothers karamazov' said - "I must make one confession. I could never understand how one can love one's neighbours. It's just one's neighbours, to my mind, that one can't love, though one might love those at a distance." truer words have never been spoken! i believe this is why we love people so much at a distance. for when we are away from them and we can input our own hopes/dreams for their personalities into the space that exists between us and them - we can create fantasy, delusion, traits and qualities that don't even exist or have the briefest hint of real existence. i love you, i say; i love you, but i don't really know you. i know you for what i know of myself's hope & desire of what i see that you could be, but you are not. i can't see myself. i can't really see myself so i don't know how i would expect myself to see you for what you are. i don't live in this world. i can't. i suffocate and lose air and choke and will die if kept here too long. i am like a fish without gills trying to live in the ocean. it is not possible for me to exist here and so i must create my own world. my own happy delusion, my own fantasy. when i am alone i can convince myself that it is real. i don't expect you to accept this or appreciate it or understand. yet it is who i am. i am happiest when i am alone and miserable and productive. my life is my work, and yet in the recent days my life has been to live. living, much too real. i have become too much like girl and less like machine in recent time. perhaps its not possible to maintain the state of a machine but i have to try because being a girl seems altogether much too unbearable. i have to try to live alone and without emotion of my own coming out through the body, i must channel this emotion through my work. and yet.. part of me still wants to love you, needs to, probably always will. silly girl. with all you know you still give in to it or play with the idea. you are drowning and drowning in this ocean, dear, and it's only a matter of time