my pathetic self. I am suck writing books looking for an answer within myslef asn I cant seem to find it outside of me. and in many ways this searching is is just a way to make me feel better about my excisitance. But I believe there is more deep down I believe there is more and I will search for it high and low, inside and out. To find what I am looking for.

How deep can I go inside my mind? This is a question I keep asking myself I feel like I am rowing a boat on a lake that is my consciousness. And below is the unknown. I can see my reflection and a little into the water were the sun is shining. But any deeper is a mystery. I want to explore it but it makes me nervous. What is down there? will it be dangerous? and can I come out safe if I decide I have had enough?

None of these questions will be answered unless I take the dive and look in. maybe I will wear some scoober gear to protect me. Or give myself a safety word so that I can leave if I get stuck. how about “bent on love” shall me my safety fraise as I am unlikely to use it when I type on here. okay so that makes me feel a little more comfortable. I look around the raft and see that there is not much here. All really dry as it has all been sitting in the sun all day. But there is nothing hear except a book of random words. I tuck it under my arm and fall backwards into the water. I splash into it and feel a shock of the cold water crowding around me. It feels heavy. Like a goo. I straighten myself up by using my hands and legs to paddle. I do not feel a shortness in breath at all. It is like this goop is allowing me to, well not breath, but not needing to breath. I felt it fill up my nostrals when I dived in.

I will explore further I will keep on searching….

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