Of course — I decided to walk, and here I am, 10 minutes later, doing something else entirely. Why is this so natural to me, to this body? How many years has this pattern been building? Does it even matter how many years? Is there anything important right now? Maybe just going out will show me what it means.

40 minutes pass — in an instant. 4:47 am. I should go out for a few minutes, breathe the early morning air for the first time in a while. Walking, they say, is one of the most effective ways to quiet uncontrolled thoughts. I knew that. But I haven’t done it in a long time. Just going to slip out and walk for 10 minutes…

4:09 am. I wake up. Last night, the same pattern came — but slightly twisted. Not too much stimulation. A little stability. Asleep by 11:00 pm. Now, nothing special. I just want to sit down, turn on the computer, and write it down. Today’s first and only purpose: do whatever I do. But notice it… Watch it. Feel it. Monitor it. Be conscious. This is the only thing I need to do.

Work time is over. I’m heading home soon. From now until I sleep, my tiny war will begin. Take the karma of my pattern, my past — it’s okay to start with all of it combined together. But a… hello..?

Just remembering this morning. When I woke up, my thoughts burst out like a flood — within 10 seconds of opening my eyes, my head was already full of every thought from yesterday. There is a windmill in my mind, spinning infinitely, and it seems I cannot survive without it. Like a spinning turbine. I can control this. I can.

First, afraid of doing the same karma, the same thing, the same pattern. But will it be okay? No. It will not be okay. Confused by my karmic old pattern. But the fortunate thing — I am noticing. And whether that noticing will help, I still don’t know.

The sun is slowly setting, and the night’s crisis comes to me again.

When I was young, I was shaped by everything I saw, everyone I spent time with, everything people said to me. What am I? I am a collection of all of it. So if I want to become something else, I need to vomit it all out — every root, every nerve pattern, emotional pattern, doing pattern, cyclic pattern. Can I? Is can or cannot even important? Just vomit. Just vomiting. Vomiting. Erasing. Vomiting. Get the fucking out. Erase. Seek, monitor, get that fucking thing out. I’m not sure it will help me — but I must do it. It will hurt. It will confuse my nervous system, maybe. But I must vomit.

Anger — from everything, from inside me. All anger is directed at other people, but it obviously comes from within me. Where does it come from? Why do I get angry? What even is this? What is anger about? I get angry at people who project onto others. I get angry when I hear irresponsible talk, or patterns of their position. But it is their own life. Why am I angry? Because they spent my money and didn’t give it back? Possible — but I don’t think it’s about them. Maybe I chose this. And I didn’t notice that it was my choice. It is fucking my doing, my behavior, my decision. Conscious or unconscious — I did it. Mine.

Then why? Because I simply believe people are like me. Just like me. And who am I? Six years ago, maybe the same as now — living by sensual desires. Safety, softness, feeling was everything. Belief. Everything would go smoothly. Someone borrows my money, they will return it responsibly — as I would. But that is my belief. My fucking belief.

And anger is the same. Everyone must speak softly, manage emotion, try to find a better way. But no. Fucking no. Every fucking person is not the same as my belief. So I receive the karma of my belief.

Why do I believe this? I don’t know. Fucking — because of my emotional wiring? Because of my mother’s endless giving, which made me this way? I am not a fighter, but I have anger. Because being a fighter means things become irreversible. But my ears — sound — my ears are wide open. And they want good sound. But people’s sound is terrible. Their speaking. At this point — do people speak the way I want? Because I want to hear a soft voice? Hey. Wake up. Nobody has to do that. It is their freedom.

So within this framework — this perspective — I need to train my fucking hearing system, my seeing system, my eating, my thinking. Every energetic influence, every secondary brain reaction — it is mine. Circumstance can be anything. But the only fucking thing I need to practice and master is my secondary brain reaction and my ability to focus on what is real. Fucking real. Not fucking trash. What is real.

My arms feel hollow. My body too — hollow. A small body sitting, going nowhere, simply one part of this whole. A heaviness, like a machine that has stopped. One experiment to shift this heaviness: close my eyes and imagine a bright feather. A brightness so intense it wraps the entire world in light. I want to feel whether it has any effect on this heaviness inside me.

In this world, how many people have I helped? I’m not sure. How do I even measure the people I’ve helped? What is help? Is it important? I don’t know. I remember what I wrote before — it is very important to synchronize myself. Let’s synchronize.