rosereflects - Tumblr blog

[rosereflects]

10/16/2023

[01/24/2024]- This is one of those entries which I feel a bit hesitant to share. I believe you will soon understand why. Still, I believe this may be about the last entry worth sharing; everything else is random scribbles, I think. After this, I should only have future entries, and my philosophical writings to share. I have changed the name of my host, for her privacy, but aside from that the entry is unedited. 

[10/16/2023]- Though it has been less than a full week since I have written, I believe enough has happened to warrant another entry.

The first noteworthy event occurred just a mere couple of hours after finishing my last entry. From the moment I arrived I could tell Martha had a much different attitude than usual. After a dry ‘hello’, she asked ‘What happened up there?’. I then told a brief version of the story concluding with Amanita leaving and saying I tried to stop them from leaving, at which point Martha interrupted to say ‘With an ax?’ I was clearly taken aback and asked what she meant. She said I tried to stop Amanita from leaving with an ax, (referring to my hatchet which had been left back at the cave), that Amanita had called her that night, and that the reason they left in a panic was because they were afraid for their life (lives?). From me. Apparently, despite the hatchet being very far from me, me continuously insisting that I just wanted to chill, and doing nothing but spacing out and staring off into the distance, Amanita came to the conclusion that I was a lethal threat. Oh, I doubt even a large language model could come up with something this ridiculous. I spent that entire evening trying to keep Amanita and myself safe. I turned down several of their unsafe ideas and attempted to make the night as relaxing and enjoyable as possible. 

It seems that Amanita’s fear arose primarily as a result of a comment I made regarding sacrifice. Specifically, I said that I could understand the link between psychedelic use and passionate, animalic, ritual acts like orgies and sacrifices. Aside from this and the hatchet, which I set down and did not touch again, I legitimately do not believe that there was anything I said or did that had any ties to violence. Not to mention that everything I did say or do clearly reflected the opposite intentions. Thus, when considering the matter as objectively as I can, I find that the majority of the blame must be placed on Amanita’s drug-induced freak-out.

It seemed Martha was reluctant to believe me. Amanita, it turns out, was truly frightened by me and their version of events, whatever it may have been, was quite a bit different from mine. Perhaps the worst thing Amanita did, aside from the potential physical and legal harm that could have resulted, was claim I wanted them to read my writings they took, proceed to do so over the phone to Martha, and read only the worst parts of it. For all I know Amanita could have distorted the words; they most certainly read those lines out of context. However, I acknowledge the mistake I made in simply allowing Amanita to hold something like that. How could I expect someone like them to comprehend the deepest thing I have written? And now, directly as a result of my mistakes, those very writings have been lost. May this serve as a lesson. That the deepest parts of myself, that which most defines me, which I most wish to share with another must not be publicly exposed. My regrets, my hopes, my feelings, and my philosophy must be relegated to anonymity. 

Amanita considered contacting authorities and handing over my work; Martha said there was ‘something seriously wrong’ with me, twice. (Though I do not deny this), I simply cannot allow these ideas to be had by anyone who could then use them to hurt me, intentionally or not. Thus, my options are to either share them with someone I know could understand, or else distance my own identity from them and share (publish/ post) them anonymously. I am thankful that the internet provides me with a simple and easy way of doing this. As for the former option, it seems very unlikely that that should come to pass. What I mean by this is that I could never be sure that whomever I chose to share with would not ‘misinterpret’, and thus I would never be confident in sharing with them. In other words, I am hesitant to share both my identity and my words with another, though as you well know this is what I truly desire. 

There is, also, a certain incident which I would like to describe. It is not so important, but I do believe it contributes to the point of the story. You see, just over twenty four hours after the conversation I described above, another conversation, worthy of note, occurred. I found myself at the kitchen table, preparing dinner, while Martha was in her room dealing with something on the computer. It apparently had something to do with her phone bill, though it is not too important. Over the course of fifteen or twenty minutes, I could hear her becoming frustrated, then angry, then, well, pissed. She then came into the kitchen suggesting we smoke. This is standard practice for us, we smoke every night before dinner. I agreed, but before I even stood up to get the ‘stuff’, she began telling me all about how she hated the phone company, the people in charge of it, their shareholders, their employees, then the power company, the internet company, Amazon, and several others. Her rant went on for a couple minutes longer; I tuned it out for the most part. The interesting part though, that which I want to tell you of, is that she said “I just so wish I could kill all the executives at [phone company].” This was then followed by a “I know I shouldn’t say that”, and then by a “But it’s true, I just wish I could kill all of them, along with all of their shareholders”. She kept going for a couple minutes longer, but hardly with the same intensity, I believe because of my expression at her utterance. I did not reply, or questioned her about it. I did not give her any sort of foul look, but remained quiet, and I believe she could reason what was on my mind. I wanted to comment on the hypocrisy, perhaps something along the lines of “What if I had said that?” or “Should I be worried for my life?”, but, of course, I resisted. It would only have soiled the mood further, which I obviously did not want.

Finally, there was another conversation this morning, quite a bit different from the other two, which was the catalyst for me penning this all down. It took place outside, at the shed we’re building, as I was working, and she leaving to haul water. Frankly, I struggle to remember how the conversation started, or how it then led to this. I told her we should agree on a date for my departure, and that it should be soon. She asked what I had planned, and I told her I was simply heading home, that I was done with this program, and that it had been a bad idea. She very quickly interjected to say that I should not, could not, cease volunteering; she said I should continue doing this in spite of what had happened. This was quite a radical shift in her stance from just a couple of days ago, when she said she was worried about me going somewhere with either kids or animals. I believe she had calmed down and thought of the sequence of events a bit more rationally. She has also been asking questions, here and there, on what happened, and I think she is understanding the event from my perspective. She then continued, saying I could not simply give up after something like this, that I was doing some good, and that that should not stop. Then, she surprised me by actually praising me, not unlike her, but definitely unexpected. She claimed I was one of the best helpers she’s ever had, praised how well and much I work, made mention of how well I treat the animals, and so on. By this time, I could not hold back my tears, which is something truly rare. After this, she surprised me again by saying that she would like me to stay for as long as I wanted, or could, and even return to the farm in the future. She went so far as to even say that she would like to hire me to work on the farm, and that if she had the money to, she’d pay me to stay and ‘manage’ the farm work. This went on for a bit longer. I struggled, but was able to restrain my tears. The conversation went on for just a few minutes longer, with mostly only her speaking. I calmed myself, she left for the well, and I was left with an understanding that my plans for this trip have not been ruined.

-Rose

[rosereflects]

12/31/2023

It seems as though I am unable to maintain my own good spirits for very long. Just now I have reminded myself of my own lowly status. Though unintentionally, on what is supposed to be a happy day, I made my little sister cry. My own sister, the person I care most about. This act speaks volumes on my degraded nature. That I am so easily able to cause in others pain, anguish, and unhappiness is perhaps the clearest indication that I must remain isolated. I could see it in her eyes; she wants nothing to do with me. I cannot see why anyone would. An existence like mine is not much good for else besides causing pain and discomfort. The worst part may be how careless I am despite knowing this. Why can I not keep my mouth shut? It truly must be better for her, and all else, to know me as a quiet recluse than as a villain.

If the damage I cause is truly unintentional, then it must simply be a result, or byproduct, of my own nature. This I have accepted. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am not a good person. But the acknowledgement that I am a terrible excuse for an older brother hurts more still. Though this I accepted long ago, it still remains one of the worst axioms of my existence. Reasons to hate myself still further find me constantly, but none weigh on me as much as this one.

It seemed like such a lighthearted comment. And truly I meant it as such. Yet I have been shown before the ease with which my words and actions can be misinterpreted, or else discomfort others. Now, all I am left to say is that if I knew my words would lead to her tears I would not utter even a sound. You see, it was as a small number of us sat to eat that she began to speak of her boyfriend’s father, in particular, she spoke of his new girlfriend who was described as less than half his age. It was then that I remarked ‘Oh, it must run in the family’, referring to the fact that my sister is several years younger than me, whilst her boyfriend is nearly a decade my senior. This, though greatly displeasing to me, is something I have learned to tolerate over the roughly two year span of their union, choosing to trust in my sister’s good judgment. The few reasons why I find such a large age gap displeasing should, I believe, be quite obvious. Despite them, this was the first time I actually voiced any such criticisms, and it was most obviously a mistake. This I understood instantly, as following my thoughtless comment my sister stood up and retreated to her room. I waited for some minutes outside, with each passing second making me feel worse and worse. Once she did exit, I apologized, said her life was not for me to meddle in, and promised I would not do it again. I doubt that meant much. She said only ‘It’s ok’ and walked away, without so much as making eye contact.

Rose then did what Rose does best. I slammed back a couple of shots, poured myself a drink, grabbed another that was just sitting there, and locked myself in my room. I rolled a joint and hopped out through the window to smoke it outside. I should not be smoking, with a drug test so close, but I hardly care at the present moment. I assumed it would make me feel at least a little better, but in typical fashion, I was wrong.

There have been a number of knocks at my door over the past few minutes. I suppose I should stop ignoring them and return to everyone else. I truly am not in the right mood, as is clearly visible in my expression. I feel like shit, but there are only a couple more hours to go.

-Rose

[rosereflects]

12/30/2023

It is almost midnight here. I have just finished re-reading Sons of Destiny, the final book in the Cirque du Freak series, my absolute favorite. I first read them when I was just half my current age. Yet despite the years that have passed, they still elicit much the same emotions as when I first sought comfort in that fantasy world. This is the sort of book series which truly draws you in and holds you captive; the sort of series which is almost saddening to conclude. The only other piece of media that has had an even greater impact on me has been, of course, Fairy Tail. I believe a large part of this is due to how heavily both series emphasize the idea/ theme of belonging to something greater than yourself. This coupled with an overwhelming sense of adventure has at times left me in near tears as I brood on the fact that I will never belong to a world I love so much.

Sons of Destiny ends with the protagonist, Darren, seeing himself as the young boy he was when the series began. I wonder what it would be like to see myself as the boy who first fell in love with this series. I wonder how much of myself I could recognize. A similar thought then arises. How far back would I have to go in order to stop myself from becoming what I am now? Darren is, at the end of the series, able to go back and, in a sense, prevent all that happened to him throughout the series. For me however, it would hardly be that easy. When I contemplate on my life, I am led to believe that the seeds of this sickness were, if not innate, sown at a much earlier point in my life. Though it is true that there are certain key events and decisions throughout my life which seem to have conducted me to degeneracy, I now believe each was less influential than I originally believed. I am now of the opinion that there were very few possible paths in my life which did not end in degradation. Regardless, I do not, currently, wish to dwell on my own nature. Rather, I wish to briefly discuss this year which is now concluding, and speculate about the one ahead.

I should first begin by saying that this year was, on the whole, one of the best of recent times. Granted, I, as always, failed in many respects, and there were, of course, periods of great unrest, particularly in the former half of the year. Despite this, there was quite a good deal of excitement, adventure, learning, growing, and philosophizing which I believe is sufficient to label this year as one of the best in recent times. For brevity’s sake, as well as that of my fragile good mood, I will focus on that.

This year was most clearly defined by my half year volunteering expedition to the Arizona desert. This adventure provided me with some of the most beautiful sights and landscapes I have ever seen, opportunities to learn new skills and acquire new interests, a chance to socialize with others, and, best of all, a belief that I was being genuinely helpful and making a difference in another’s life. On second thought, there is one thing I gained this year even greater than these. This was the knowledge of how truly simple it is to radically alter my life whenever I so desire. On that same note, I found it quite easy to decide that I wish to continue doing this for the next few years. By this I mean traveling, volunteering, making friends, learning, and writing of it all. I plan on having lots to tell you about.

Lastly, I have a bit to say on my expectations for the upcoming year. Though I have no particular resolutions, my goals for the next few years of my life have become more defined, and I wish for the actions I take this year to be directed towards their completion. There is, first and foremost, my philosophical system to complete. I would also like to visit and explore every state in this country. And, well, a couple of other things. I plan on spending the first half of the year, or close to, at home working and saving my money. The latter half I hope to spend volunteering and traveling just like this year. The destination is not yet clear, though, for various reasons, I am inclined to return to the farm I stayed at this year, if only for a couple of months. 

I believe that is about all for now. I will soon write of my two week trip through four states and five national parks in detail. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the highlight of this year for me. There are also a few other diary entries which I will likely copy for you, and perhaps shortly thereafter I will start sharing some of my philosophy with you. Until then, I ask Lady Fortune to smile upon us as the New Year dawns.

-Rose

[rosereflects]

10/10/2023

[12/26/2023]- With some free time on my hands and a newfound sense of purpose and determination owed to the fantasy of our union, I have decided to share some recent diary entries. Though they are lacking in the philosophical speculation which I believe will draw us close, they are at least a brief introduction into the current state of my life. Further, I hardly expect you to find this collection any time soon, if at all. My intention is that when (if) that happens you will have enough to form a clear conception of me. 

[10/10/2023]- I find myself in this cave once more, though this time the circumstances are quite a bit different. I have quite a bit to talk about, and despite not planning on writing today, I will use the day well. I should mention here that I plan on collecting, editing, and sharing my recent writings, as well as those that are hopefully to come. I am thinking of The Reflections, my journal entries, and The Confessions. I only mention this because I have just very recently ‘lost’ several writings, namely a personal narrative with an explanation of Universal Evolution, a journal entry, and a close-to-finished version of the theory of Pride. With that in mind, I will start back at the beginning of September.

As of the first of September I am now twenty and five years old. It is difficult to recognize that I have been roaming this world for a quarter of a century. It’s shameful to recognize that as of yet there is still nothing of value to which I can put my name to. I hope that will change soon; that is, after all, the purpose of this trip. Still, it is terrifying to think that my life could at any moment end and there would remain no meaningful proof of my existence, nothing which would tell what I once was, and nothing that could possibly justify a quarter century experience. This collection of writings, I believe and hope, will be the very first thing to change that.

Now I would like to mention something that has been on my mind quite a lot lately. For quite some time now, I have been interested in combat sports. Lately however, I find myself thinking about them much more. I have also (loosely) kept a workout routine, but have recently increased this in both intensity and duration. I very much enjoy the idea of competing with others and building myself up to a level where I feel confident doing so. I am seriously considering joining some gym to learn a martial art upon my return home. This, like writing, seems like an avenue which may lead to feelings of true accomplishment. I believe it is exciting, difficult, and a practice to which I could dedicate several years of my life. At any rate, I genuinely hope that I do not lose this passion for some time.

I am still living in Arizona with my host Martha. It has now been over three months and I have no intention of making it past four. Things have been very well at the farm, and I believe I could rightly call Martha a friend. However, I did not plan to spend anywhere near this much time in any one place. There truly is nothing of significance to complain about here, and thus I would not mind staying longer if it were not for the fact that I have limited time while on this trip. I also told my family that I would be back in Texas for Christmas and New Years. After that, considering I wish to see as much of this country as possible, I think it would make more sense to head East rather than back West again. I would very much like to reach the West coast, however, I would just as much, or more, love to see White Sands National Park in NM. Thus, my biggest practical question at the moment is figuring out where to head to next. I have also considered simply visiting the park and then heading to California to WWOOF. As I consider it now, I think this may be the best option. After leaving Martha’s, I could take a couple of days to see Hoover Dam, the Grand Canyon, and White Sands.

While I am on the subject of camping, I would also like to mention a recent camping trip I had. About two weeks ago, I visited the Pierce Ferry Rapids. To reach that point, I took a ten minute walk along a sand path, and once at the rapids I decided to keep walking along the river. I walked/ hiked for about two and a half hours, pausing here and there to take pictures or a bit of shade, until I found a nice tree with plenty of space to set up underneath. I walked back to my truck, a bit faster this time, gathered my things, and headed back. I spent two nights there and had a very relaxed time. I did not do any real writing while I was there, but I did take my first attempt at composing a poem. Frankly, it was far from good, but I do believe it is something I should devote some focus to. The last thing to mention regarding my stay at Martha’s is the arrival of a new WWOOFer. This was Amanita, and they arrived just a couple of days before my trip to the rapids.

Amanita’s original name is Arnold Joseph, but they decided to change it some time back. They are not the type of person I would normally make friends with, this stemming simply from the fact that we share practically nothing in common, yet we hit it off well. They were polite and amicable, and several times we enjoyed a smoke after dinner. After a discussion of my recent camping trips, we planned a trip together. This decision would cost me those writings I mentioned, a headache, and is the reason I am writing now. 

Our trip began yesterday morning very innocently. We both packed our things, Amanita had breakfast and I a shower, and we headed out. We each came in our own vehicle because Amanita planned on heading home for a week after the trip. The first thing we did was head to a nearby dollar store for supplies. I bought some food for myself, as well as two 12-packs of beer and four boxes of cigarettes. Upon arriving here, the first thing we did was hike up to the cave with just a small number of supplies. We had had no more than three beers each when we decided the sun was low enough to begin hiking around. We walked for less than an hour before we reached the peak. Once there, Amanita decided it was the right time to take some acid. I, of course, agreed, believing there to be no cause for concern. We had reached the bottom before we began to feel the effects. We then brought the rest of our stuff up and got ready for a chill night in the cave. However, not thirty minutes had passed when Amanita decided they would like to sleep at the bottom, near the vehicles, and this was not up for debate. As we were beginning to feel the acid start to take full effect, we quickly gathered what we needed for the night and headed down. Once back at the bottom, I had the most enjoyable twenty to thirty minutes while the acid was hitting me full blast. Then, it was very quickly ruined.

I am really not sure when or how I noticed, but Amanita had all their stuff in their car. Then, without warning or explanation, hopped inside and started the vehicle. I quickly jumped up, put my hands on the driver’s window and asked what they were doing. Amanita’s only response was that they needed to talk to a friend, were leaving to get service, and may be back. I truly tried to stop them. I held on to the car, begged and pleaded, and even chased after them. I begged them not to leave. Afterwards, I was left with the stress of knowing I had provided alcohol to a twenty year old who was now high and driving. I did not believe driving after them was a good idea, so I stayed put. This morning I considered packing my things, driving out, and calling them to see if they were ok, but decided against it. I do not believe there is anything left for me to do now. Whether Amanita is or is not ok is not something I can change at this point. The only question is whether there is or is not some sort of trouble waiting for me on my return. Obviously then, I am not very happy towards Amanita and would gladly prefer to not see them again. Thus, despite not planning on writing today, here I am. Lastly, the reason I no longer have those couple of writings is that once we made the last trek down the cave yesterday I wanted to bring my bag down, but as we were carrying too much I, for whatever reason, decided to pull only that booklet out and take it down. I handed it to Amanita who put it in their backpack, and I obviously only realized until after they were gone. However, that is not so bad. While I do wish I could have copied those writings, this is more or less the way I intended to share them. I originally planned to leave it somewhere for a stranger to find, but I figure that as long as I don’t see them again, it will be close enough. 

It is now Wednesday morning; we arrived here on Monday. My stuff has been packed and I am currently writing inside the truck. I am going through the final motions of leaving and frankly I’m a bit worried. I worry there is some sort of legal punishment awaiting my return. I do not believe it to be very likely, but definitely a possibility. However, I genuinely believe I did not commit any sort of moral wrong. This trip was truly intended to be only innocently fun. I do hope everything is ok and I hope to not see Amanita again. Were it not for that detail, this trip would have been much more enjoyable. I believe it still was, to an extent, but I truly must take this as a lesson and attempt to not repeat it. In any case, I hope the next time I put pen to paper I am in much better spirits.

-Rose

[rosereflects]

12/24/2023

Broken, confused, and tired. Today’s dose of hallucinogen induced existentialism was especially filling. I have had a change in (perspective?), difficult to say how severe. I saw myself as I truly am, sort of, and it cost me. As I am now, as I feel now, I am running out of time. I cannot imagine existing much longer. I am just so tired of pretending I’m not insane. I am tired of others pretending this is all normal. I did not ask to exist, why can’t I at least understand it?

I’ve constructed a fantasy in my head. It keeps me going for the time being. I imagine that somewhere, somewhen there is someone or something that will understand what I am. I cannot be the only one living in this sorry condition. I imagine you reading my words and understanding. I imagine you hearing the desperate cries for help hidden behind the ink. I imagine sending you letters and receiving yours as well. They’ll make no sense, just like my own. Perhaps they’ll be precisely crafted, paying close mind to detail as you aim to create a piece of art, for no real reason than you wanting to at that very moment. Perhaps it’ll be a mess of words that you just barely managed to scribble on the page as your poor hands could not keep up with the pace of your mind. I imagine you standing before me, finally, and I’ll look in your eyes and say “I don’t get it”, and you’ll reply “Neither do I”, and we’ll laugh and cry together, finally, yes finally. And it will have been worth it. “What will we do now?” You’ll ask. “I don’t know” I’ll truthfully reply. And that will not make us happy, but neither then will we be sad.

I do realize just how ridiculous this sounds. I know that most likely I’ll die alone, without understanding, and without being understood. Yet the hope that there is another like me and that we might meet prior to me losing what remains of my mind keeps me motivated, though I’m not sure for how much longer that will be. I will thus devote my energy to writing the story, best I can, in the hopes that you read it some day. For you, I will live. I only hope you will find me in time. I really, sincerely, and truly hope so.

-Rose