Yoga, Good Eats, Not Enough Sleep

It's coming in real clear to me that change has got to come. I'm not waiting for it, but I have been for oh so long. I've known for years and still I denied it, and now it's no wonder that so much has troubled me along the way. I don't take care of myself anyway or anyhow, anytime, not then, not now. My brain does this thing where it's part of me. Get that! It's more than doing, it's being. "Me being who I am" is a concept that has existed mostly in my head and rarely extended its truest form to the world, let alone other people in my life. Yes, in my life or not in my life, I hardly act upon my intentions, my ideas, my insights into others or even myself, and they do not manifest. They infest my brain, rather, tormenting me and separating me from the things I wish to be closest to. I am a fool for thinking myself capable of understanding while going the whole time without focusing on myself. Perhaps I thought of myself in selfish ways, but never in a helpful light. Never in a way that I could interact with this world. Never first.
The requirements of life are so simple and easily tended to, and when you take care to satisfy them you are then able to manage more complicated requests and procedures, to further your life and the lives of others, to step beyond any limitations, and truly, simply, to just be fucking happy. It's not everlasting happiness that we need, since the ability to feel is itself enough. If we can't feel, then we can't feel happiness. If we can't feel, then we can't understand pain. We can't know how much we hurt others or how much we please them or how good it is until we just letttttt goooooooooo. Let life flow into you. BREATE IT IN. I fixate on things like I am a junkie and my mind rots whenever I am not escaping into pure animalistic bliss, because otherwise I let the simplest things become a burden. I have overcomplicated my nature, and in its fucked-up, sub-par, and malfunctioning state I tend to think I am something other than the very simple creature I am; in this something other with its hesitations and insecurities and QUESTIONS to things for which I know where lie the answers, the mind controls the body controls the mind. I want to reach out and kiss the face of every pretty girl I see, I want to swing from every street tree, and get to know every good man and woman on earth. I want to be at equals with the earth and all its power and glory, not in the eyes of mankind but of life itself, as a product of it, and to exude it. If our closest neighbor holds any sway over us, it is not the moon, not solely the great forces of higher beings, but of the greater nature of ourselves and our loved ones, the fellow in man and beast and rock and soil, all the elements in unity to promote wholesome oneness. What is there to feel apart from but the isolating feeling of separation from self? We can make only pretense in our lives when we deny ourselves and what we have, even if what we have is arrived at by pretense thusly. Such a simple mistake, to want to live and not to do it. To want to inspire and only ruin. To want to exalt and only demean. To want to create and not be overtaken by creation. To want. To want. to want. Intentions are dimensions of dementia that lend to you a tension of declension.