So, what is this about? Why are you calling for attention again? What do you need now?
I am going to take you for a walk in Brno.
Each time I find myself in a new city it is like learning to walk again. You have to be very careful not to loose yourself. When in trouble not to start crying in the middle of all those people passing by in a hurry. They feel the same from time to time but afraid to let it out. Afraid to get closer to someone suffering. We all feel the same. Afraid to be for real. Just think about what goes through your mind when meeting a new person. How do you choose your attitude? Do you judge their force by their appearance, their uniform? Are you trying to understand how to use them ? And if not useful, discard them asap? That’s all your work, Fear.
Last night you nearly put me down. You found a way into my heart just because I was tired and a bit overwhelmed by all the recent changes. Why would you do that? Why stab me in the back, why don’t you come out and watch me straight in the eyes?
Because you are not real, that is why.
Walk, you poor thing, walk with me.
See that homeless there? Dark, dirty, bent over. They usually hang out close to supermarkets or crowded places, touristy places. Look at that one entering the phone cabin, you can see his ass, he is holding his pants with one hand. Dirty ass.
Is he going to call someone or just piss? Remember that one in Kuala Lumpur, Fear? The homeless lying down masturbating diligently. It all your work. You feed on human beings afraid of their emotions.
If we humans could have a little patience and understanding with our internal world, with our emotions which are like driving rules in this universe of nothingness, you Fear would not be existing. If we people would have the power to embrace or accept the filthy stinky homeless and not send them to hell but show them the way to water, you and your sister Hate would not be ruling the world.
Do you really like the results of your work? Do you like angry, dark, closed, heavy, murderous people? I guess you do… You like prostitutes for what they do, not for what they could be doing. (Prostitution is legal in some countries, I know. But legal does’t mean right. It doesn’t lead to internal peace. I have seen the effects that a world ruled by money, sexual and fashionable slavery has on young girls. It is anything but funny to watch and feel).
You make us intellectualize emotions and find financial reasons for whatever we are doing for survival just to put an end to the voice inside calling for attention and sincerity. You like obsessed, monstrous CEOs and pedophile professors. You like absent mothers and fathers. You like depressed housewives and depressed business women. You like obese stuffing food into their faces, you like vomiting people.You prefer all the scum of life and you feed on it. You poor thing.
I understand. You are afraid of yourself. You think that no one may like you the way you are and so, you dig dipper. I was like that and sometimes, when my forces are drained, I return to feeling a scum again even if, reasonably, there is no reason.
When my forces are drained I dilute into nothing.
You only come alive when we humans are down. That is a pity.
You know what we could be doing instead? Walk together. I will tell you my stories, you will tell me yours.
You go first. I will just listen.