"Musings of a Slowly Rotting Mind"
May 18th 2013
But I think I can sleep now
I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes I wish I were crazy. A lot of crazy people always seem to be happy in some sort of way. And if they aren’t then it isn’t that hard to find their happiness. I mean the sort of crazy that I can sit in a corner and talk to myself and this will be the most entertaining thing I can do. I think of this because I find it very difficult to write out my thoughts and feelings, on paper or typing. It’s like something inside of me refuses to let me get it all out on paper. I want to talk about it sometimes but I don’t want to tell anyone what haunts my mind. You know, I’ve tried just whispering my thoughts aloud. It didn’t solve anything and I stopped mid sentence because I felt crazy, but not the kind that I crave. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never get it out. Then the backup just makes me want it to be over that much more.
I’m thinking of different ways again
That’s not good
My dentist once told me that letting go is like pulling a tooth. When it was pulled out, you’re relieved, but how many times does your tongue run itself over the spot where the tooth once was? Probably a hundred times a day. Just because it wasn’t hurting you doesn’t mean you didn’t notice it. It leaves a gap and sometimes you see yourself missing it terribly. It’s going to take a while, but it takes time. Should you have kept the tooth? No, because it was causing you so much pain. Therefore, move on and let go.
I want it. I want to feel it. These days are the hardest to get through. I fight the urge but its strong. It feels like the only solution. But its not healthy, they say. I say it helps me cope. I need to feel it, I need to see my pain.
Missing someone is like hearing
a name sung quietly from somewhere
behind you. Even after you know
no one is there, you keep looking back
until on a silver afternoon like this
you find yourself breathing just enough
to make a small dent in the air….
I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.
Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner.
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.
Little do you know
Love and Lies intertwine more than you think
I’ve learned that sometimes it’s better to lie. Especially with you.
It doesn’t even matter if I finish the post I just wrote half of. What’s the point anymore. I find less and less of a reason to give a fuck these days
I don’t need you to tell me that the bad things I’ve done were wrong. I already know they were wrong
The demon girl
I feel sick to my stomach