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These late hours I keep are not healthy. They give me far too much time alone with myself. And I do not particularly like, nor get along with, myself. I have never felt so entirely tormented. What I would give for a moment’s peace. Through much debate and deliberation, these witching hours that hound my thoughts accompanied in the silence of the time, I have discovered a deep seated unrest and anxiety in me. I have not been truly happy from some time now, any where from nine months to a year and am in some way desperately seeking that which might bring me even a moments joy or comfort from my inner demons. I dreamed once of a great storm, in a place of fire and water, wind, rain, hail, sleet, thunder and lightning, though it was all in silence. I do not remember how long ago I dreamed of this storm, the storm that consumed me in the unconscious realm and tore me apart. Perhaps I spoke of it enough to elicit it from another’s mind… This storm has settled deep in my maze, in a room all its own, and as I’ve traveled the outer walls, I’ve caught only glances from time to time of its rage and fury. What brings it forth in these lonely hours of retrospect, I don’t know, but it grows heavy with each night’s passing. It pulls at me with horrible paradox that makes me want to scream, though again, I must swallow this against making some disturbance in the slumber of others. To be held, to never be held. To hold, to never hold. To touch and to never touch, to be touched and to never be touched. To let myself slip, to close my eyes and attempt rest, to hold on with every last breath and fight, eyes forced open and carry on. Display no sign of faltering, no sign of weakness, to just break down. I’ve never wanted so badly to just run away. And it’s never been so viable an option, so possible. Slip away in the night? I have access to money these days, access to a car, I technically know how to drive, at least the basics, and who’s out on the roads at 2 or 3 anyways besides the drunks and cops? Take out all my cash, leave the car somewhere it’ll be found and returned and disappear. No need to worry, I won’t. Reason is too heavy a hand in my mind, despite everything, to allow such a foolish thing. It reminds me that even I disappear from everyone else, I can’t disappear from myself, and that’s truly what I’d be seeking if I did that. And I couldn’t live like that, I could escape, I couldn’t just abandon everybody. I wear heavy chains, to keep me here. Chains I put on myself, chains I could break if I truly wanted, but chains I am not yet, nor do I see myself being willing to break. My confidence is shattered. That much, is no paradox to me. In its place, I have only my pride to cling to as I struggle to jam the pieces back together before I lose it. The confusion is practically overwhelming when I can’t decide which direction to move in and there are no paths open at this hour anyways. So I agonize alone, and finally surrender to the rather futile and fitful pursuit of slumber and rise again to start over, if nothing else, my exterior refreshed to face another day and carry me through until I am left in this hour again, alone with myself, to fight myself. As me of this in daylight, or in the hours I stand with another, and I will not speak of it as easily, or it will seem pointless and trivial, foolish, as I’m sure it is, even now. But it becomes so much realer in the dark and silence that only exist outside and will do nothing to help me within. I’m beginning to think I fear the night as of late, or perhaps my dreams, without truly knowing it. Why else would I avoid them so? Why else would I keep such a vigil each night to surrender only to the morning? Why else would restful slumber elude me? What is this anxiety and why will it not let me be?
Feril · Tue Sep 12, 2006 @ 11:46am · 0 Comments |
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