|Psychology and Mental Health Forum|
|Author:||Squaredonutwheels [ Fri Oct 26, 2018 8:45 am ]|
|Blog Subject:||Authentic companionship|
Yes I am a little too familiar with chasing the first high. A romantic/addict squats in my temple as well. I have a love hate relationship with her looking for the high that lasts.
I suspect that I have an unconscious memory, a forgotten high that I chase more than anything else. It's the bliss of the womb, or even before that, the bliss of preexistence or something. The residue of that unbeatable high lingers around in my hollow tube and drives me to something bordering on bliss and insanity. Raw authenticity, I suspect, smells like death and birth all at once.
I don't know what is more interesting in the face of annihilation. Drugged on the delusions of utopia/dystopia, wrapped in a padded bubble of narcissistic empathy, or crucifying oneself to reach that prebirth state with a polar opposite who destroys me and frees me.
Strange how others dreams speak messages to me. Fascinating indeed.
After all, we follow the chord, and meet the lover by the shore, we give them all that we are, they might hunger for more, then the waves of change sweep whatever is left of the both of us back into the ocean to be no more.
At the end of the day, I could use someone to sit on the couch with while they paint their nails and I eat another apple, and as we die, become ourselves.
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