There are pin-pricks that just pinch my surface, and vibrate down to the bone. What an incessant ache.

“Money is the route of all evil.” Any materials linked to the expenditure of money, often lead to greed and thievery.

What’s worse: the kind act of giving, with the evil intent of wanting to reap reward.

Running after redemption, only leads in circles. Redemption feeds on self-satisfaction. Actions working with these hidden-causes, only ignite a larger void. This selfishness brings everyone in our vicinity down, into a pit of greed and guilt.

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For a person who doesn’t have much to account for, there sure are a lot of people looking to me for rewards.

We operate in a world of “give + take”. More often, this world’s equation is “give + take²”. We expect to reap the benefits of a reward, for such a great act as giving. How loathsome of us.

For these reasons, primarily, I operate on a strict ration of “give to others² + give to myself (refuse gifts + obligation(guilt))”.

I have sacrificed this practice, for my own greed on occassion. When I have struggled financially, I have taken in places I knew there would be negative repercussion. Presented as gifts; my gut gives me an unsettling insight into the true target.

So, when my Mother-in-law looks for the “thanks” so exceedingly, that she attempts to initiate the gesture with bitterness in her words… I take in that moment. I account for all of the times I have shown my thanks in words and actions. Though guilt still plays a role in my life, and it’s a victimized state of mind that swallows you.

These days, I don’t take in that load of crap. It makes me gag. My gut forewarned me, and I’m not about to ingest the scraps of someones self-gratification.

Today, I ponder paying her a visit. She will get back everything she’s ever given me with a, “Thanks Mary, I have appreciated these. However, they have come with too much obligation and guilt. So I’m giving these back to you, in hopes that we can both let go of those negative emotions; proceed onward with love and appreciation.”

Most mornings, I wake up to a distinct memory of my dreams.

This morning, I was jolted. I woke myself up, because the alternate-reality I’d ventured to was just not where I wanted to be.

Dreams can be a strong addiction. You always want to know where life is leading you. Where our consciousness lies, the mind wanders into submission to itself.

I have always been strongly in-step with lucidity. One of my most cherished composed poems, comes straight from the mouths of a marching Civil War platoon of corpses. Quite randomly, making their way through the halls of my old middle-school.

Euphoria
21.09.2003

My legion of lonely
Marching way into heart:

“Strike the balance;
Sharpen the blade
…Euphoria, Euphoria.”

Most places are eery, in slumber. Finding myself in wonder of why I am present in such occurrences. The interaction and characteristics I innately want to display, puzzle me. As I am conscious of who I am, and who I am meant to be.

… A world where I am in contact with both my Mother and Father. They are still the same bunch of loons, but they are apart of my life.

Krislynn is around, yet she is in a daycare. Something we’ve never opted towards, not even once. Then forgetting to pick her up, for a second day in-a-row, noticing at 6:07 pm.

At which point I frantically fumble for a phone, and the recollection of a phone number to reach Christopher. Though, I just can not remember for the life of me. OR, so it seems. For every time I complete a dial, I only reach a disconnect tone. Leading toward a thought, that Christopher isn’t even around…

So I just rush for my keys, and out the door. My Mother tries to stop me, in concern for my having her phone number. Completely irrelevant compared to retrieving my daughter. Leaving her behind, and paying not mind, I race on through the car lot. Finding the van has been broken into, doors wide opened. All I can do is panic in place, trying to start the car and pull off before my Mother marches up any closer. I found myself looking in my rear-view mirrors, and having the darnedest time getting my key in gear…

I just decided to jet. I woke up in a snap, stood up from bed, and walked myself out into the living room. Finding Christopher, I was still horribly tired, but wanting nothing to do with sleep.

He was about to retire to bed, having been up all evening. If I had kept to spinning my wheels in dream-land, I may have woken up to a fatal reality. His sugar had plummeted to 56. Sleep may have sent him cold. He was mentioning how it’s odd, “I don’t feel a temperature when I’m like this”. Quite probably, because his body is so close to lifelessness.

I love the life I lead. With a wonderful man, who I can enjoy everyday. A cutie goose of a daughter, who we never have to send away.

Even still, on a day such as today, I do stress. For our rent is accounted for, but not nearly payed. Our bills are past due, and we’re clenching our jaws for a few more days leave. For this, we are obviously in debt. So when my menstruation cycle gives a warm welcome; I have no way of obtaining luxurious feminine hygiene products.

It all boils, and I start bubbling lava. That is how I initially work, these days. My mind is molten; no fluidity.

What gets me through the turbulence in sleep: my consistent breathing, bringing harmony and rhythm to the offbeat thoughts that sway my mind.

Enduring stress is much less, than calming stress. When I want to blow my top off, I know my only need is to succeed. How corny that may sound. The dreams I deal in daytime, are wishes I weave for the winning: worth the waking.