Garble

Just indescribable vastness,
Swimming with my thoughts,
Brewing with tangled emotions
Yelling a silent scream
Searching for something from the past
Trying to change the immutable
Racing with time to reach the future
Go anywhere, somehow, just not here
The strength isn't real, but it's there
Like an illusion captured in stone
The apple which wants to be worshipped
Like the stone which wishes to be food
Captured within, taught with strain
With hope the enemy, disguised as a friend
The darkness blinds, the silence screams
But all things change in the blink of an eye
The beauty in it is the soul that dreams

Randomly picked from my random writings, dated 21/3/2009


To no one and nothing,

In lieu of a night conversation…

I am feeling very restless, and I thought this might calm my nerves.
I hate when I get like this. So fidgety and restless - not physically of course- but in my mind. And it spirals out of control so rapidly that I feel almost helpless. Though I realize what's happening and I know how I should and I say all the right things to myself, yet I am usually quite unable to stop the flow. The increase in entropy, if you please- my nerdy side had to add.

At this moment- how do I feel exactly? what is beneath my restlessness , and beyond it? I feel scared. Distinctly. Yes, I feel fear. why? I am not sure.. I have nothing to be scared of, but yet somehow I feel scared- nervous.. as I would if I had come to school without a very crucial homework assignment in a particularly vindictive teacher's class. Yes that is almost exactly how I feel.

Nervous also - about the future, about myself. More specifically about myself in the future. Self doubt. Nobody can look at themselves objectively and assess themselves. But I have become so acutely aware of this inability that it stays with me all the time- clawing into me ... negating every clear thought I have and questioning the very basis of everything I do or feel.

I worry incessantly. I think of myself sometimes as another person- someone I care a whole deal about. But even a person you care about more than anyone else, is too much of a disconnect to have with yourself- and this worries me. I look at my dreams, and I wonder if I will realize them, I want myself to realize them, I want to help. I worry about the pain that not realizing them could bring, and the anticipation of that pain makes me sick. Yet it is almost as if I think all this of another person, a person whose actions I have no control over, but the consequences of which I will bear.
I feel tired as if I were a woman of 80 not a girl fo 23. As if the weight of the world- or 3- were upon me. Society shames such an attitude and calls it weakness. Who am I to judge, but being me and feeling it, I know it is not out of choice or for the lack of wanting different.
I cannot write anymore, and I dare say- even if you have got this far, you cannot!