Time is a liar. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

One of my best friends in the entire world, I don’t get to see very often.
He pawned a bunch of my shit for heroin and took off to Mexico 12 years ago, and it put a bit of a strain on our relationship.
I’ve sent him money here and there from time to time after he had his son.
He’s been on and off the black for a little over a decade now.
He’s been off for a while now, though. I’m not sure exactly how long.

He just got back from a good friends funeral…when you spend a lot of your time as a drug addict, you make a lot of drug addict friends, and then a lot of your friends die young.

I got lucky, I kicked that shit in my early 20’s.
A lot of my friends haven’t been so lucky.

So…the two of us have been discussing life, in general.
The concepts of time.

He asked me if I ever feel pressed for time, like I have to change my life around RIGHT NOW because of all of the time I’ve wasted (You see, I kicked heroin and crack and just immediately became an alcoholic…so maybe “lucky” wasn’t the right word).

I told him I don’t feel pressed for time because I don’t believe in time, to which he agreed, linear time is an illusion.

He asked me if I remembered the feeling of playing together…how time would stand still for an eternity and then just be over in a breath…and of course I remember. I remember everything him and I did together…I don’t know if I’ve ever loved a human as much as I loved him.

He said that at his friends funeral, everyone kept talking about how his friend had so much love for everyone he met, but could never seem to find that same love for himself…and that’s when Wesley broke down and started crying…and it hit me so hard, too.

We both have an immense amount of love to give to everyone we meet…we both can’t seem to find that same love for ourselves.

But why?

That’s what I don’t understand.
I am standing here, ready to love myself…I want to love myself, but it’s like myself doesn’t want to be loved by me. It’s like I’ve been friend-zoned by myself.

The truth of the matter is that when I look at myself, and I start to explore all the things that make me who I am, I can’t ever seem to find anything about myself that I love.
What am I supposed to do, just fake it?

I feel like, if I didn’t have to spend all day every day with myself, I wouldn’t spend any time with me at all.

But then, that’s weird…because don’t I spend time doing things that I like to do? I mean, don’t I have the same interests as myself?
What are my interests anyway?
Can I even remember?
Do I even have interests anymore?

I don’t know if I have just had too many psychotic breaks, or if I’ve had too many psychedelic experiences, but nothing seems to matter that much anymore.
Do I even love anyone?

How do you define love?
How do you know when you are feeling love?
How do you know you’re not mistaking love for something else?
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever felt love in my entire life…I mean, honestly, I have been infatuated with people, I have said I love people…hell, I just said I love Wesley, right?

But how do you quantify that shit?
And how to you transfer those abilities over to someone else? Like, if I am capable of loving someone, how do I transfer that to myself and start loving myself? Is that even possible?

I don’t hate myself anymore.
I used to, but I don’t anymore…that’s a huge step for me.

I don’t hate anyone anymore…I don’t hate my moms ex husband or my step mom or the woman that murdered my nephew.

But right now, I don’t know…I just don’t know what the fuck love is.
Maybe I need to find a book on the subject.
Maybe I need to go find out what love is and write the book on the subject.

I want to love myself.
I want to be loved.
I want to love.

I tell myself every day, “I am full of light and love” and I will keep telling myself this lie until it becomes truth.

…

I am so bad at self-care.
I made the joke today that I wish I could just pay someone to do my self-care for me.
I wasn’t really joking.

I hate eating and showering.
I hate exercise.
I hate being nice to my body…I feel like my body is a prison.

I feel like I probably need to start getting better at self care if I’m supposed to be loving myself, right? Something like that?

Anyway…if you have any advice, that would be great, I need to know where to start loving yourself when you’re finally ready.

“But, where are you supposed to start when you don’t believe in ends or beginnings?” “Well, I guess you just pick a point…a point of reference.”

I love you.

-Dane