May 15, 2018

I’m screaming into a vaccum.  

Never have I been one to be okay with not being in control. Making changes and taking opportunities puts you in a place where you are waiting on others to decide for you. It is nearly intolerable. The only solace is the expectation that something great, greater than you could have done on your, will come from this. Somehow though, it is almost worse knowing that you have control. 

Do you ever feel like your progress is nothing more than dumb luck? That the obsessive effort, sleepless nights, near breakdowns, and overwhelming work loads are something that you somehow conjured. The results would have always been the same, you just made the path harder on yourself? I look at where I am at and wonder if it is possible that  I did  this. Did I actually accomplish something? Or, did I just make my own life so hard that getting here felt like a marathon? 

The circles I go in are digging moats in my mind. 

More than anything, I worry that this is truly the result of my hard work and dedication. Then, if I were to fail in the future, I would be the one throwing away everything that I have done. It is apparent that if I have the ability to build myself up this far, I have the ability to tear it down. I have the ability to completely level everything I have made. Not only that, but dismantling my life would be so much easier than it was putting it together.  

Weather the Weather

weather

[weth-er]

to bear up against and come safely through (a storm, danger, trouble,etc.)

Slowly reciting incantations in our childhood home. Wishes and dreams and spells and hexes. Creating a blockade again the storm inside. Boarding up the windows to reduce the breakage. Covering mirrors with sheets because the reflection is dangerous. Hiding underground is safe. Throwing open the doors and howling with the wind is deadly. Sickly, green sunlight only means more danger. Closing your eyes only means more conjecture. Craving the feel of raindrops on skin- Yet, exposure to the elements requires the ultimate offering. Sub-Consciousness and Reality hold each other tightly as the storm subsides. Never quite knowing which one will let go first. Scared of what may be lost or what may be forgotten. The wreckage is a necessary path to beginning again. Sorting through what you will have to live without and accepting what has been left until next time. 

Drafts of Me

It has been a while and I am sorry for that. My writing does not serve as just a place for others to possibly find a common ground, but for me, myself to find some sort of grip on the flurry of thoughts that consume my conscious days. 

Even now, as I open a new draft on my blog, I am reminded of the drafts that have yet to be completed since June. Maybe this one won't make it any further either. 

To describe my state of mind in the last few months, the allusion of merry-go-rounds come to fruition. My point in the world is fixed and rotating at the same time. And the world is spinning at a different rate. Everything moves slow and fast at the same time. This makes trying to focus on anything bring on an overwhelming sense of nausea. Not to mention, the lights are bright and colorful and changing- causing storms to erupt in the back of my brain. The laughter and music and conversation around me becomes a muddled groan. 

My instant reaction- Close your eyes. Shut them tight and hide your head. 

It is more than being overwhelmed. It is edging on assault. Every time I am open to it, life hits a crescendo that causes me to recoil. Sick to my stomach. Then, I leave it unedited and unfinished. Now, I have these moments chronologically listed and highlighted with a label that reads 'DRAFT'. Otherwise, unidentified. Possibly to be continued.