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Burning Shivers and Silent Screams
Posted January 16th 2012 at 12:50 AM by green8
Burning shivers and silent screams. Contradictions of my mind and body and surroundings that are some interrelated disconnected cyclical chaos.
See? That was ridiculously wordy and made no sense. But it’s still exactly straight the words from my head.
Writing lately, that’s what I’ve learned. It’s that when I let my pen exactly write my thoughts without clarifying or translating to real people phrases and expressions, they come out right somehow, but still fundamentally wrong. And mostly, everything just negates everything else on the surface, but in some strange level of reality emphasizes everything instead of erases it. And this, this right here is why I’m always confused about every part of it all.
Because I am finally able to at least recognize this, you would think that would make me okay. But just because it all makes sense, doesn’t make me any less wrong. Morally, logically, even abstractly wrong. So even when I have revelations that make me feel better for a while, when I think things like, “Oh hey, life is just a complex jumble of contradictions, and that’s cool and even kind of magical”, even still it doesn’t make me any better for the world.
And sometimes all I want to do is fall. And stop breathing forever. And it’s like someone’s offering me wings as I stand at the edge of a cliff, but I decline even still because that’s how hopeless I am. That’s how much I hurt those who love me, when they make it so EASY for me not to. To just take their hand and let them breathe for me, then with me, then beside me so I could do it all alone. But even then I wouldn’t have to, and they are wonderful enough to refuse any room for ambiguity about that. And I don’t let them be happy because I won’t let me just be selfless enough for even a moment. Sometimes I’m sure that just one fleeting moment would be all I need to lead me where people could bare being around me without my negative energy drowning them. But I’m too stubborn and will not let my mind stray from my own silly drama for long enough to appreciate its insignificance.
I have such imagery in my head of those wings. Vast and white and soft and pure. But I jump. And so people are pushed to that same spot, because I just wouldn’t try quite hard enough. It’s just a few extra breaths of effort and I’m still too fucking weak.
See? That was ridiculously wordy and made no sense. But it’s still exactly straight the words from my head.
Writing lately, that’s what I’ve learned. It’s that when I let my pen exactly write my thoughts without clarifying or translating to real people phrases and expressions, they come out right somehow, but still fundamentally wrong. And mostly, everything just negates everything else on the surface, but in some strange level of reality emphasizes everything instead of erases it. And this, this right here is why I’m always confused about every part of it all.
Because I am finally able to at least recognize this, you would think that would make me okay. But just because it all makes sense, doesn’t make me any less wrong. Morally, logically, even abstractly wrong. So even when I have revelations that make me feel better for a while, when I think things like, “Oh hey, life is just a complex jumble of contradictions, and that’s cool and even kind of magical”, even still it doesn’t make me any better for the world.
And sometimes all I want to do is fall. And stop breathing forever. And it’s like someone’s offering me wings as I stand at the edge of a cliff, but I decline even still because that’s how hopeless I am. That’s how much I hurt those who love me, when they make it so EASY for me not to. To just take their hand and let them breathe for me, then with me, then beside me so I could do it all alone. But even then I wouldn’t have to, and they are wonderful enough to refuse any room for ambiguity about that. And I don’t let them be happy because I won’t let me just be selfless enough for even a moment. Sometimes I’m sure that just one fleeting moment would be all I need to lead me where people could bare being around me without my negative energy drowning them. But I’m too stubborn and will not let my mind stray from my own silly drama for long enough to appreciate its insignificance.
I have such imagery in my head of those wings. Vast and white and soft and pure. But I jump. And so people are pushed to that same spot, because I just wouldn’t try quite hard enough. It’s just a few extra breaths of effort and I’m still too fucking weak.
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