In my most recent poem I mention realizations, uncomfortable ones.
I have tried and failed more things than I can count. They say it only takes one success, but I ask, how many failures can one person endure? How long until they are helpless but to have to consider that maybe they, are a failure?
My most recent failures are this GoFundMe campaign I started, and this Couch Surfing meeting I started. Nobody showed up to the Couchsurfing meeting, only one person donated to the GoFundMe campaign.
Throughout my life I have been forced to ask myself, over and over again, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I seem to get it right? Why do I keep failing? Why do I keep screwing up?
As I walked to the church my dad works at through the rain, I toyed with the idea of leaving bad personal feedback for the person who signed up to come to my Couchsurfing event. But I remember my eBay days, and am fairly certain I would get bad feedback in return. We’re at a Mexican Standoff right now, I will leave bad feedback only if they do, but purely out of retaliation and a need for vengeance.
In the end the reason I toyed with the idea of leaving bad personal feedback (which would be reasonable, as they signed up and did not attend) then rejected it is because I came to realize that I would ultimately be punishing them for being who they are.
I have no idea who they are. The point is that the only reason that this person is in my life is because I have drawn them to me. That is the same for every person in my life, the perceived good and bad.
If I were to receive negative feedback in return I would deserve it, because really I am punishing someone for just being who they are. I am blaming them for my problems. If I had my shit together I would not attract circumstances like this in my life, where people sign up and do not show up, for example.
I am also completely and solely responsible for my failure with my GoFundMe campaign. Sure I could go around hating on people, thinking that nobody cares, nobody wants to share, nobody wants to help. But all that would do is make me feel even more alone and isolated. It would put a wall up between myself and other people.
The truth is I have no experience of the actual, real people involved here. I am experiencing my perception of them and the rest of the human race. All that is happening here is the world, the Universe, is reflecting back to me my own beliefs, feelings and thoughts.
I am a powerful creator, I have created my own personal version of reality, and it is that version of reality I interact with. I am not yet interacting with reality as it is. I am just not there yet. I am only interacting with my perceptions, my beliefs, feelings and thoughts, same as probably 99% of the rest of the human race (another perception. What proof have I that most of the rest of the people on earth do not interact with reality as it is? I could be in the 1% and not even know it!)
But for all my powers I believe, feel and think myself to be powerless to change myself so that all I desire, and all that I perceive to be desirable or good, can happen to me. So that the blubber I wear on my body simply melts away, along with the pain I feel in my body. So that I find myself surrounded by friends and lovers. So that I can’t start a Couchsurfig group, because I am so desirable and popular I would need to rent the Expo Center to host everyone. So that if I started a GoFundMe campaign, I would be richer than Bill Gates and Donald Trump combined, but I have no need to, because I am already that wealthy, and not just in financial matters.
The fact of the matter is I am not allowing myself to have that kind of life experience, and I have no idea how to change it. Same old story I have been telling for years now. I am worried that I will undertake this journey and return unchanged. I feel like I am somehow locked into a setting for a version of reality I no longer want, and I can’t find the controls or settings to change it, I am not even aware of where they are or if they exist.
I fear I will come back, nothing will be substantially better or improved, I will still be without any means of supporting myself, without a passion, unable to follow my dreams, even the ones I have manufactured lacking anything I can recall from childhood. I won’t have even lost weight or gained friends. I will be no better off, so it would be better if I offed myself. I am not really afraid of that, at least I don’t think so. I seem somehow resigned to it. As if the Sisters of Fate have already woven it into the tapestry of my life and I am stuck with it. But I made the patterns that allowed this addition, it is not their fault.
I just don’t know what to do. The worst failure of all would be to not even try, to not even go on this trip. But if all that awaits me are more failures like these two most recent, if all I have to look forward to is more pain, then this is just a matter of pride, stupidity or sheer stubbornness. What a cause to suffer for!
A way to justify my suicide,
So I can say to the Universe,
“Hey, at least I tried!”
I guess if I can have nothing else in this world, I at least want that. So by pedal or by foot or by sticking out my thumb (ass, grass or cash) I am heading in the direction of California, with a few stops along the way. My only hope is that significant change will be made inside me, that I will not give up, that I will keep going and come back, changed, to such an extent that I can begin to carve out the life I want for myself.
Here’s to hoping…