Maybe too little sleep, maybe it's exhaustion from straining my body too much.
Maybe it's a bad memory. Maybe it's a new one; some new emotional hang-up, or maybe an old one come back howling out from under the carpet where I thought I'd dragged its sweating corpse...
Maybe it's insignificant, or should be, some unexpected thing that throws a wrench in the works, some stray comment or something I don't understand, or misinterpret. Something I want, but don't get. Fuck it, I don't know. Don't really want to look at it.
All it takes is for me to get stuck in my own mind, to have the part of me that knows it's all inevitable and pointless to be in the ascendant, and everything goes to shit. How we get there really doesn't matter. It happens. I lose. I fail.
I try to just move. Kick myself into the work, just get out there and get busy. But the slightest thing will throw me into a state of acute despair. I can't reach out, and I can't ask. My tongue is limp, my mouth is sewn shut.
I spiral into myself. Negativity reigns and it blots out my vision. What's in front of me loses its focus as my demons start to feed. They gorge themselves on the screaming void, this thing that enables my own personal reality of madness, and Self-Pity and Self-Hate become the almighty primes.
Half-formed questions circle them, coasting on the waves of their hellborn radiance. Why can't anybody see, why can't they reach out, why can't I, why do I keep feeling this way? I don't want this, I know it's not right but I can't stop, I can't alter it, can't change it, I don't even really want to because then I wouldn't even be me but then I just remain miserable. But being yourself is key in all things right? It is the key to self-reliant happiness that all the stories talk about, but what if your mind is the thing that makes you so unhappy, what do you do then? It's not even always there, but my god when it is, it takes over absolutely everything.
There's no sure-fire way to stop this spiral, no real way that isn't escapism or ostrich tactics, and if it takes too long, this miasma of seething spleen becomes a big ball of 'fuck it'.
I don't decide this. Some normal part of my mind just elopes to some forgotten place while the other part dismisses thought altogether and decides to take my body for a walk. It's the fight or flight response, but I do nothing but fighting these days, so in this moment it's time to flee, to get away from this place that has been polluted by my self-indulgent misery. I can't be here, damn the consequences, nothing's worse than being here, in this mindset. Fuck any and all fallout that will come from this atomic bomb, I don't care, I deserve the worst, I deserve your uncomprehending, self-righteous hate and I deserve whatever you might throw at me. I'll welcome it with a smile, even as my heart is breaking, even as future tears, yet more self-indulgence to sup on at a later time, start welling up from my slowly fracturing outward impassivity.
So leave. Run, you coward. Hide your face, the naked shock writ large, the appalled frustration and the teary-eyed helplessness at it all. But, be aware. Going home could be worse, so think of contingencies. What to do, go somewhere, do something? Make a plan, run with it, keep moving, because the quiet will swallow you whole, and then comes the screaming. Then comes the rage and the howling injustice of it all. Then comes the hate and the pain, and those are guaranteed to escalate. So keep busy. Don't think. Don't imagine. The mind out from behind your eyes. Crush it, stop it. Deny its endless circling.
Go do something.
-----
I don't know why I still fight to be a part of things, to be a part of a group, to have a place and be normal.
Regression is inevitable. Given enough time, I always relapse.
You know, maybe this is good thing. Why bother to be anything other than this; isn't this my truest self, this dark thing shouting into a corner, so uncomfortable with everybody else.
The problem is that I'm too aware of it. I look around, I look at others, and envy can not help but be a part of me. It is a fucking poison and I'm tired of it.
Sometimes I can harness it, use it as a goad for change, but on days like today, where I'm too aware of how insurmountable it is and of how some things just can't be altered, it gets to be too much and all it does is trip me up and bring me down.
So. Yeah, I don't know.
I think I need some space, take a step back.
No comments:
Post a Comment