Independent persons do not require employees or customers.
I am not eating or sleeping as anyone could or should, my concentration is a hummingbird as my lungs and heart feel so weak I think I could finish myself off just by tensing up, readying the final shit. I am not altogether present mentally or physically, barely cognitive and with my pulse and breathing both becoming unpredictable and slowed. My energies from mental thought processes to physical capacity dimmed, nearing collapse in wait for me to ever forget myself even for a moment, allowing for the frayed tether of my being to blink the rest of its way from existence. Unacknowledged and unaddressed, I am made non-corporeal as spirit. I have nonstop palpitations striking and gurgling forcefully from inside my torso that leave me halfway convinced some conjoined twin has violently awakened 43 years late. This state is in ways an extension of being left alone by family and friends for months following the burial of my mom. I wrote somewhere ago about how the only time when life was good for humanity was when we all lay about in the mud all the live-long day wondering what the sky was trying to say for itself. I cannot wait for humanity to finish itself off, so what remains can return to that. I never saw logic to long-term plans in this world where life was never an actual option for anybody. I want nothing from this world but for each and every last one to get a full dose of the love they share. As the inevitable nature of power is to be made corrupted, then there is an incorruptible nature to powerlessness. Strangers turn away, but they do so in fear.
I have no principles or convictions for adding to the opportunities or resources of those possessing more than my own, only for those possessing fewer or lesser than my own. Contrary to each and every ego dependent upon the merit and mettle of others, the heroic ideal is made of self-sacrifice, and never the sacrificing of others. Yet far short of ideals does this apply to basic survival all the same, as the fundamental attribute to surviving is no accumulation, not of what pleasures us or of what torments us. For all those ever to have seriously done more than merely entertain the task, to survive is to manage what we might part with. And so does this intangible flickering destroy no lives despite all temptation for more, more time and more space. I would imagine that salvation of any stripe must allow no affinity toward space or toward time. Because we can be alive without either one, we in fact are alive despite either one.
Half my lifetime ago I’d wrongfully concluded I was to be a servant of truth, selling myself on nothing, but always was it life to have glued me so.