what is mine

i look where there is nothing expecting something, thinking there is something there something i need or will make me feel better than just feeling this unending emptiness. i want to be empty but i feel full of it full of the negative feelings about what i have done. nothing goes away and all revisits me whenever i feel like i have been foolish or unthinking or just uncaring about what i am trying to achieve or manifest or become whatever this aspiration is pointed to. and that is the reality the deadly aspiration. the ending of this life to start another that has no face or form. what is that but death and its unknowable face. i eat my bowl of fruit and oatmeal, wanting to taste something sweet in this sour place. too many masters too many saying we know whats best, you dont. your doing it wrong, your not progressing fast enough, your getting it mixed up, whats wrong with you.......
and then the perfect, im just sharing my truth, whatever it is, i still love you no matter what, like thats all i need.sure i need love but not as a booby prize, not for just existing, not for being a loser. i follow my self and find a trail of pain and passivity, i want to take action and get hatred and anger, what i want or need is of no consequence to anyone but me.so i stumble and fall and pick myself up, the desert of my life becoming drier and drier, the mirages less tangible, the reality all too real. its not the mother or sri aurobindo i identify with in all these books, its the lowly satprem and his pain and dejection. i am so undone i feel only identification with the creator of fantasies the lover of tales the believer not the being. how is that for aspiration, to be the water boy of the saints and the receiver of instructions.