My Project

I’m fucked up. Inherently. But it’s ok because I’m going to fix it.
It’s a project I’ve been working on.

For hmmmmmm 39 years.
Maybe not that long, but it certainly feels like it.

And I’m looking for someone, someone I can save, while also working on this project.

Someone who either

  1. Believes they’re hopelessly fucked up and unlovable
  2. Wants to blame all their fears on me so they don’t have to look at
    their stuff

Ideally, I can find someone who will let me do both.

  • Try to save them even though they are un-saveable while also allowing
    me to make everything my fault.

What I absolutely, unequivocably DO NOT WANT
is someone who finds me incredibly lovable, just as I am.

What I absolutely, unequivocably DO NOT WANT
is someone who loves themselves and doesn’t really need saving.

Because if I find that person I’ll have to give up on my project.

I want it to look like I’m saving you so I can feel noble as I subject you to my intense dehumanizing arrogance.

The arrogance that I can fix you and me all at once.
The arrogance that you need fixing and I have the answer.
The arrogance of my significant project that is unfinished and unfinishable.

What’s funny is how un-unique my project is.
What’s funny is how many other people I see with their own version of this project.
What’s funny is that I’ll keep trying to do this project, notice, try to stop, start doing it again, notice, let it go, and start doing it again, notice, and notice, and notice, and notice.

It’s simply noticing ALL THE WAY DOWN ARCHIMEDES.

Today I will remember that I am loveable, amazing, powerful, sexy, and whole and complete lacking nothing.
Today I will remember that I am scared, difficult to be with, a lot to be with, gross, insecure, needy, and walking around with all sorts of dysfunctions and idiosyncrasies.

Today I will remember that I can sit with a gorgeous woman and do nothing.

  • Not get her to like me or avoid wanting her to like me
  • Not try to be clever or avoid a desire to be clever
  • Not try and get her to bed or avoid a desire to get her in bed

I can sit here and do nothing.
Simply be with her.

It’s all on me. Everything is. And nothing is.
There’s nowhere to go and plenty to do.

And I love the me that tangles in the net of samsara again and again.
For after all there’s no other me to love.