today I feel all the selfpity of someone who was left alone, of one, others need to get rid of, like getting rid of things they don’t want no more.
This is an old, well known feeling that accompanies me all life. “nobody loves me …” with a subpressed sigh and a herofece.
I’m not taking it very serious anymore, I know it’s impermanent.
My mother told me, she wanted to get rid of me before I was born and jumped a lot and took hot bath’s. [I don’t blame here for this.] I must have been a problematic and pain causing fetus.
My deepest fear still is to eventually bother and make other people want to get rid of me.
Maybe I love to stay alone because then there is no danger of being one others want to get rid of.
Maybe that’s why I always left, when it was nicest.
Anyway, today i’m licking wounds, there are some fresh ones I didn’t care about yet; I said “selfpity, selfpity, …” quite some time and wonder when I will internalize what I know since long: no “I”, no wounds.