Sunday, July 12, 2009

Lock me in a room, and please don't let the world in.

yourwrite:

Have you ever watched the things you know unravel directly in front of you? Slowly at first, but then more rapidly as you neared the end? There’s no reason for this feeling, everything is okay(!) but I’ve got a tight feeling in my stomach to match the way I’m keeping my jaw clenched. I’ve got the hangover blues, just- you know- not in a drunk sort of way. I’ve felt this way for weeks, running my fingers all over the walls and floors like I was trying to decipher some sort of foreign code invented solely for me.

How do you just start all over when there’s nothing but fake materials leftover from your former life? I’m not good at any of this, I never have been. I realize this with a sharp sort of frequency that scares even me.

I still dream of running away literally all the time, all the while knowing that my fingerprints would be the quickest thing to sell me out and down the river. Do you feel that sense of unease as well? Like you could pack up and leave, and it’d only be a matter of hours before they were dragging you back into the city by your ankles?

I’m completely uncaged, I guess is what I’m trying to say.

And god(!), these are the oldest of all words in my mouth. I’m living the same life from years ago, just at a different level of saturation. Deja vu, or deja vecu- both fit the feeling. And I’ve been fighting it for longer than I can even remember, my hands curled into tight and incomprehensible fists.

Once, I told you I thought my heart was overwhelming all the odds- like it was too big even for me. Are you catching the fact that I’m becoming less subtle as the days pass? I find myself abstaining from things simply for the reason that I don’t have the energy to smile anymore. I don’t have the energy to waste that on you.

My heart’s so big it feels like it’s going to break out of my chest. And I mean that (again) literally. I’m giving up the cute metaphors where I mention how I just love, love, love. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve made myself feel physically ill from all of this increasing pressure. Do you get it? Like somehow, alongside the shift of the seasons, I’ve managed to become less than the sum of all my parts.

Do you know how that feels? I’m not so sure that anyone else does, really.
Lonely and alone are two completely different things. Forgive me for not charting out the differences: I’ve never been one to break things down mathematically. It’s always been the colors and feelings that mean the most to me.

I know. I know that you’re the saddest creature that ever walked this planet. But don’t you think the person who’s been striding in your shadow is feeling that sadness too? Just a little?

So maybe it was all of those words that made things hazy again. Maybe all the things I want you to know are lost on communication. Maybe what I want to say can’t be transfered with mere language.

I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

Once again, silence wins the game.
And forever has already been set in motion.

(-what’s mine is yrs)

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