Diary: Desires are desired

As long as I wasn't serious about writing, I thought writing was a great thing. The more seriously I was writing, and therefore the better I wanted to get at it (for me and by my standards), the more uncomfortable it has become for me, this “path” of self-expression. Now regardless of that, what the alternative would have been and under what circumstances alternatives would have been possible: I only want one more thing: i want to have a new life, a life, in which it is the dead end: Self-realization no longer exists. One life, where I'm fresh and new and doing something out there, no matter what. By simply, to do the same, like everyone else, and to be ready in the evening, in knowledge: having done the job as well as possible.

“Desires are desired”. And, but i want all of this, what I saw brilliant in it, as young woman, namely: do something, the, if possible, cannot be valued and cannot simply be valued with money, I don't want that anymore! I want the opposite now! And only do and achieve something, which can be evaluated one-to-one and corresponds to a sum of money. I also imagine a life as self-sufficient together with others somewhere in Ticino to make sense. I hate everything, what I had in mind as a vision, and that's mainly this one “Drive / this obsession” been, wanting to write a book and thus wanting to do something single-handedly, regardless of the environment, and as if I could without (Self-actualization) don't start my life.

Now, where my life is apparently coming to an end, it all seems stupid to me, and I'm like an old repentant sinner, for a lifetime e.g.. Cheated people for money or others “Acts of sin” committed with pleasure, but he regrets all that now.
There were always times, in which I intended, stop writing, to instead use the little available power differently. But when I then looked around and wanted to implement a new project, it mostly failed again: the physical resources as well as an inner resistance, that it was never exactly that, what suited me. Again and again a project with people did not materialize, because me people, that I would have worked with, were not sympathetic enough or I immediately had the feeling: I can't with them! It was my wish, to do something together with people, always there! I wanted! But then I couldn't!

For a few years I haven't known anything about the people out there. I only have with them (via online) Contact, whose life takes place in bed. I have no idea, what people, the healthy, have power springs out there, what makes them tick, how they experience their environment. Ob sich Umwelt (so the world in general) has changed for them too, e.g.. since the year 2000, e.g., or whether life is still the same for her as it was then: when we sat a bit in the coffee houses, went shopping for real (not online), vacationed somewhere in the Swiss mountains at affordable prices, the crap, that happens in the world and this insane aggressiveness, which has not yet arrived at our place since then, etc..

For some time now I have felt unable to do so, read the daily news or watch it on TV (above all!) and I often wish to flee to a house somewhere, in the middle of a deep forest, far away, and then it snows and snows and snows and snows, until everything is covered in snow. I want it to snow on me and my mistake in life. But I also want to, that the world is snowing, with which I have nothing to do or vice versa: this world, Who wants nothing to do with me!

I think, it fits me, that me now, where it matters, to stand, what I do (Write), This means nothing to me at this very moment and I curse it out loud. But I really don't think so, that today I would still fall into the error “art” to want / have to do, because I think, that there is no more room for it, spatial, on the market, but also in people themselves. The, what i am with “art” do meant, is among other things “Art of living”, but i don't see, like yourself “Art of living” implemented today, the external circumstances, the circumstances, that we got into, do not allow strolling anymore, and our brains are like computers, the feeling flattens out, because it no longer knows slowness. There is a lack of space and space, to pay attention to someone. The overload and the too much let the concentration melt away …. I think, people have changed.

But I only judge that from my bell jar, in principle I can't judge, because I have no inward view: there is still an eye out there for the invisible, there are still nooks and crannies, which one cannot make use of? Even our carrots are either compliant or unique, so that we don't have to experience it ourselves, what that “Others” is. For sure, for people with a certain wealth there is still the possibility that “uniquen” To travel to places on earth and buy your space in a few square meters of swing. These people probably don't just think of themselves as unique, they are confirmed in their uniqueness, thereby, that they are given space.

Personally, I haven't had this feeling for a long time, that I have a place somewhere, I think, I feel like many extinct insects, who had a lot of stress, when their livelihoods became precarious. They fidgeted a little, before they disappeared. I need it because of my strong sensitivity to stimuli (neurosensory problems from ME) a noise- and people-free zone. Here where I live, on the ground floor, I hear the door slam dozens of times every day. People walk into the house all day, right behind my head. I am very sick and need to retreat, sometimes a reason, why I now live completely in the night. I don't have enough space. (But under the current physical and psychological circumstances, my search for an apartment cannot continue). And sick body parts are injured and vulnerable body parts!!!!!

I have no more vision at all. But I think, that today's boys have visions, realistic. And above all, they maintain friendships. That's the most important thing in life anyway.

I just want to finish writing.

(15.10.2020)