(no subject) Sep. 24th, 2018 | 07:15 pm Sometimes there's quiet. Just the ticking of the clock. I feel overwhelmed, so overwhelmed. I think -- I think that I have forgotten what it's like to be with myself. But the scary thing is that when I have to be with myself I find that there's nothing there. I feel like a bubble of air rushing towards the surface, coming from a deep, deep, deep abyss.
Everything around me is dense.
Everything has meaning and purpose.
But I'm just a bubble of air.
There's nothing inside.
Really, there's nothing. Not a single thing.
I think of breaking the surface and that's when I feel panic. What's it going to be like when all the pressure that keeps me together, everything the forces me to keep a shape is -- gone?
(no subject) « previous entry | Oct. 11th, 2018 | 03:47 pm I wish I could say there is something beyond the kinetic energy of our daily lives but I don't think there is, or maybe I am coming to terms with the fact that I don't think there is (though there very well may be something beyond). I'm not My head used to buzz just thinking about mundane events from the day or week before. Any gesture could get me going. These days I am having trouble trying to understand the actions I am completing as I am completing them. I have sought to reconnect with my motivations but they've faded into obscurity and now only the practical, broad understandings remain. Do well because you're depended on. Be good because being good is good. Don't quit your job because then you won't have money to pay bills. Being in love is the absence of being alone.
I don't know exactly when it started happening but in becoming less of me I've gained traction in living an everyday life and I'm not consumed with hopelessness.
Maybe every now and then I panic, but then something happens and gives me time to recover and re-automate.
I don't know what will happen or if there will be any trace of me left a year or two from now.
Yet there's an untapped part of me where feelings (in and of of of themselves) are still vibrant, visceral. I don't think I'll be able to get back there, in the same way I can't access my old email account because I don't have the faintest clue when my old email address was, much less the password.
(no subject)
ReplyDeleteSep. 24th, 2018 | 07:15 pm
Sometimes there's quiet. Just the ticking of the clock. I feel overwhelmed, so overwhelmed. I think -- I think that I have forgotten what it's like to be with myself. But the scary thing is that when I have to be with myself I find that there's nothing there. I feel like a bubble of air rushing towards the surface, coming from a deep, deep, deep abyss.
Everything around me is dense.
Everything has meaning and purpose.
But I'm just a bubble of air.
There's nothing inside.
Really, there's nothing. Not a single thing.
I think of breaking the surface and that's when I feel panic. What's it going to be like when all the pressure that keeps me together, everything the forces me to keep a shape is -- gone?
What happens to me then?
Sometimes I think, with relief, freedom.
Sometimes I think, with fear, nothingness.
(no subject)
ReplyDelete« previous entry |
Oct. 11th, 2018 | 03:47 pm
I wish I could say there is something beyond the kinetic energy of our daily lives but I don't think there is, or maybe I am coming to terms with the fact that I don't think there is (though there very well may be something beyond).
I'm not
My head used to buzz just thinking about mundane events from the day or week before. Any gesture could get me going. These days I am having trouble trying to understand the actions I am completing as I am completing them. I have sought to reconnect with my motivations but they've faded into obscurity and now only the practical, broad understandings remain. Do well because you're depended on. Be good because being good is good. Don't quit your job because then you won't have money to pay bills. Being in love is the absence of being alone.
I don't know exactly when it started happening but in becoming less of me I've gained traction in living an everyday life and I'm not consumed with hopelessness.
Maybe every now and then I panic, but then something happens and gives me time to recover and re-automate.
I don't know what will happen or if there will be any trace of me left a year or two from now.
Yet there's an untapped part of me where feelings (in and of of of themselves) are still vibrant, visceral. I don't think I'll be able to get back there, in the same way I can't access my old email account because I don't have the faintest clue when my old email address was, much less the password.