i

already my thoughts have drifted to mending more relationships. playing into how preset people are. i think i am right on this one, again it is an urge, ishvari's icchaa. i will answer, i will just be open to it.

--, you are pointed outwards. you want to go to see the other people and do the other things. you want whirlwinds. before i wanted to stay put, i wanted to stay certain, i wanted to lock in my security. i wanted to catapult myself into the lifestyle of the settled. i didnt want to accept my age and my circumstance. moreover i felt that i could justify it if i could find the other piece, the other person, with whom a coupling could construct the inner world that i live in now - whom could justify the creation of it that i have already begun.

this is all about appa. who knows where i would pick up and move off to. whatever impetus i would have. ive never in my life been focused on having friends. just for little bits here and there but never when it mattered. i sat alone in my small, expensive uptown dallas apartment. i didnt go out and meet people in real life. i live in my phone so much. i sit on my phone and i swipe, or i watch people from afar, each moment the distance growing between myself and real life. real life is real action. it is not constructs forever. i abandon appa and i dont know what goes on. i assume he keeps moving in his ways. his cooking is carved out of him, his walks out, his trips and things he does for me. i worry so much. i try to think this is not my burden but before i even finish that sentence i know that it is. i know that i need to figure out things for the both of us. and i know that other people do not do this but i need to stop thinking about that.

i realized also that i lack confidence. i send messages and worry. i think about things as a reflection of myself when they are just going out into the void. i think about how others will react to the serially more than is acceptable confessionals i think and speak in.

a small solution i think about now is cleaning up my social media profiles. making some small tiktok videos - who knows my niche - where i talk about things and am a real person, putting outward and not just gathering inward. having a normal twitter and maybe instagram - one where i know how to frame and put out what i am thinking and what i am reading. having my own person and letting the internet supplement me, rather than the other way around.

i think this is a good intermediate step before i become obsessed with moving to a city, performing gymnastics for an abandonment that wouldn't happen the way i keep thinking it might. preparing myself to be in a mental place where i can actually go out into the world and receive it as it is always reaching out to me with tentacles. entering when i am ready. life is so long. it is so long and there is time for so many things. there is NO rush. there is careful building up every day. there is careful enjoyment in this real moment, this now.

i will work on not being on the internet - and when i am, i will give to it so that it will become one of my limbs reaching outward, radiantly -- not a crutch for my brokenness. i will clean up the internets i do have, so that they can be spaces for specific parts of myself - i will keep the rest closed off, where it can be gently nurtured until it is ready to have any parts of it that stick out. appa and i will look for a house for him here - the good texas weather, the taxlessness, the temples, the indianess. this is a good home base place.

For all these disappointments: wasting time on my phone not having friends not moving around not pursuing my passion (that’s all pretty much it)

how i spend my time right now is not great. i spend a lot of time on social media. mostly i am looking at other peoples lives and what they are doing and thinking. 

this is not smart - i am overloading my brain with information, these snippets are not real life and real relationships. i am scattered from seeing segments in a little rectangle. 

what i want is depth of thoughts and real experience. i want to enjoy the world and know the truth. the best way to do this first thing is to not waste any moments - dive deep, read and see and think a lot, talk to people and talk with people. the best way to do this second thing is to practice.

-

free time 

out of house

physical: walk, catch, basketball

social: hang out

spiritual: visit temple

chores: buy groceries 

in house 

mental: read non-fiction (related to interests or career)

physical: dance to music, stretch, exercise 

social: facetime, text

spiritual: practice chant or shlok or bhajan, learn chanting, read hindu texts, make shaktism posts 

creative: read fiction, draw, play keyboard, sew

chores: cut vegetables, vacuum

i wish i’d understood that people don’t live in big cities for fun- they live in big cities to find someone to marry and leave the big city with

i wish i’d understood that people make friends to meet friends of friends. people put up with other people and give them things so they can get something from that person

i wish i’d understood that women are mostly not looking for elite careers, but are looking to build networks to find a husband in a high-powered career

i wish i’d understood that men don’t care if women aren’t wearing makeup

all the cycles of talking and explaining, worn out. all the miles i tried to bridge alone, walked together. all the things i wanted to say to support myself to someone, who, in the end, understands. all the pain i thought i would inflict, just stabbing back. 

we are a boomerang and we are bound. 

when you open the fridge and take out the food, the outside is hard. it is ugly and you peel it back. inside it is soft and fresh, full of juice and still power. that is your reward.

my wound is fresh and it had scabbed. i protected it from everyone so it could heal. but now i see the scar and i know it will never leave.

he has so much maturity. he has so much capacity. he has love. he loves me. yet it just cannot be enough. there is too much of pain and too much crosshatching to connect. 

i have the capacity to hold so much pain. the unbearable weight of a present mother who was not motherly, who hated me, for whom i was a pawn, both the hole she never got to fill in her own life and the hole she created in mine because of the hole i created in hers. the evisceration of being disconnected from my sister for six-and-a-half years. i have wounds so deep. pain from people is not new to me. pain is most of what i have known in life. pain is familiar and in fact it is beautiful.

for this is what devi has given us - the deepest bond, meant not to be broken, broken indeed by distance of our bodies and distance of our minds. 

you cannot have what you love.

we are kept from what we want.

i never understood songs, i never understood movies, i never understood stories. i never had to face this kind of pain - this present pain, this self-inflicted injury. the poetry of being so alone from the love you want to have. the heartbreak of society. the gut-wrenching presence of what is there in front of you, not what could be. the throes they sing about: love that is but that cannot be. 

the passion balances me. i am airy wind, i am just floating. i put out the fires. i do not allow myself the burning, burning flame of desire.

i blew out the candle but we both held it in our hands. the wax never cooled but stayed hot between our hands. we burned each other. the candle was disappearing too fast. now we hold each other - but it is so cold out here. 

i can’t say it as eloquently as surya put it. he is mature and he is real. he is there. he just isn’t here. 

it is good to revisit the pain. it is good to remember why i know this cannot be. because right now i am forgetting it. i feel the wax hardening but i forget the end of the candlestick - what we cannot give each other, the cavernous wound of womanhood, the sword of performing femininity, the time and space that doesn’t intersect, the stagnation versus the striving, the desire to change each other.

it is treacherous to leave vulnerability unreciprocated. it was wrong of me. i was focused on what i felt and what i received. i did not realize the hurt of what i gave. i am thankful to hear about the shallow pits of my personality. (but fundamentally i do hold that logic prevails, and the past should be closed off from the present) 

i will paint with words. 

TRANSMUTE THIS DESIRE. MAKE ART WITH THE PAIN. 

the problem is again that my wound is open. i am looking to someone else. i am feeling for them, i am feeling through them. i am seeing them. but again i have answered by own questions (rather Devi has, through me, which is myself). i read what i have written down, and it is a closed circle. it is complete. it does not keep winding up and around, like a spring out-of-control. it moved as Reality did. 

what i write in my journal is beautiful. what i write anywhere is beautiful. it must be private. it must be for myself. i love him so much but i am correct in my conclusions. 

i am happy and hopeful that we are friends. i am happy and hopeful that we will see each other through the fullness of life. i am happy and hopeful that we will always be together, be close, be full of love and care. i think it is better that we are not so close that we hurt each other, that we come to spite each other. it is better to have a break than it is to have a dent that warps space-time - infinity and forever. i am happy we are here. 

i was impressed by how mature he was, how articulate he was. a lot of my fears and what i saw lacking disappeared then. when your heart is in the right place, how can anything else measure up to that? that is the question i have been tousling with for ages. but i know it is for the better this way. things cannot be poured into a void. we need structure. i am going to feel this tenderness forever. i am going to feel this loss when we talk, because only when i think do i remember the rest. only when we are apart and only when we are too close - these are the periods of pain. heart wrenching. 

the longing i really have is for someone who i can talk to. someone i can tell what i think to. someone i can vent to. someone i can care for. someone who can care for me. someone who will give me the future. someone who will help me grow. someone who will grow with me. someone who will make me smile. someone who will make me laugh. someone who will make all this stillness worth it. someone who will kiss me and hold me. someone who will hold me. someone who will see me as beautiful and ethereal. someone for whom i am devi. someone who loves devi. someone for whom devi is all. someone who has faith. someone who is mature. someone who cares about spirituality. someone who makes me spiritually better. someone who gives me the world. 

i keep coming back to these things. these things that matter. these things that could negate anything else that isn't there. i need to stop. i need to remember this exercise.  it is to remember that devi is all of these things. MY LONGING FOR WHAT HE GIVES ME, IS A LONGING TO BE WITH DEVI. we are separate. we are apart. WE IS NOT ME AND HIM. we is devi and me, we is me and myself. my desire grows greater to feel this fullness, a fullness beyond the moments of laughing together and the second a message comes up on the screen. this fullness is ever-lasting. this moment is never-ending. it is not through a person and it is not inspired by anyone - there is nothing external, there is nothing outside of it. the motion is what it will itself into. he is my devi. i am my devi. 

the hotplate died last night. suddenly warmth gone. suddenly cold, now how to cook?

the reflection I once explained to Appa - my resolve to uncover this myself