I dislike saying so, but I hate my condition. I’ve been pulling that word out constantly lately and it actually bugs me.
I listened to plenty spiritual advice at this point and understand that I must:
“love the situation that I am in; appreciate the problems; accept the crisis as a lesson; be willing & ready to move on while surrendering to the moment”.
But my life is once again crumbling all around me. My final stake of my old life is slipping away and soon it will just be me.
My pain is the promise that goes unkept. My wise decision of investment is finally showing her ugly face in full light. I could have to go bankrupt. Does it affect my life if I ignore it? I’m stumped at a solution while distressed and with sixteen hundred miles between, there’s not much hope to physically change circumstances. Without the cash to throw that direction… the only problem anyhow.
Though, no worries is what I dream of. Burdened by that mortgage, the death-lock on my freedom, then a hot breath from bankers soon on my nape.
Freedom is nice, but I yearn for shackles of business while wanting a healing practice & all signs say that I still have a month to wait.
Life is falling apart. Dirty, stinking, homeless redneck punk acting like a business man without a change of clothes. Dirty stinking pile of funk. Tired of this life. Hate this life. How can you love it? The experience, I dread waking to likely expectations of work to fail over a wishywashy, flipflopping, cheap bastard. Much less the fear of not getting to use the funds appropriately.
I really hate my life. I’m ready for it to end. I’m ready for that new life I’ve been promised & awaiting.
I hate that I hate my life.
2:47am, what day is it?