Tension Felt in Your Joints

2009, January 29

Feeling: Trapped, Angry, Stolen, Fearful
Doing: Planning and Praying in DLS
Wearing: Shorts and Wife Beater
Current Book: Harry Potter
Lyric of the Moment: Beauty sits in the child's kiss of laughter....

I Feel as though much of me has been drawn into four distinct little piles in corners of my mind, so seperate in the laberynth it has created that they are too scared to come together and find themselves again. The piles seem to twist and morph and each has it's own feeling to it, it's own heart. It makes me feel like I have no hope other than to pray to god or whatever high powers may be that somehow I'll be able to coerce the walls of the laberynth down so they might find one another and allow me to feel that numb okayness once more. But they just sit there, writhing in thier own little groups and whimpering with thier own memories, too incomplete without each other to know full stories and making it just that much harder to concentrate.
The First Pile is the part of me that is closest to the surface; that part that is just too terrified of anything to do everything and can't move unless I look all 360 degrees just to be sure I'll not be killed in the crossing. It seems to have a deep grip to the wall it's huddled next to, and it makes me feel like I'll not be able to separate it from myself to save me. I hate this part most, and I know it's almost all others see of me, which makes me know why I have so few around me... They hate it just as much as I do, and yet I can't separate me from IT and IT from me.
The Second Pile is the semi-coherent part of my heart that longs so dearly for me to be able to just shut myself into a closet and die there, to be able to simply float in that dark void and forget all else because that would make things easy; that would make things tolerable. And this is the part that scares me most; the part that would be willing to close off that last door, snap that last thread to others and let me remain alone forever.
The Third Pile is the lingering darkness, and it seems to be huge but is really only a hollow space. It is the void that overrides me in panic, takes over my vision and orders me to find the smallest, most cold place I can to wake up from the nightmare; because that is the only reason for life, it's not real. It can't be real, no it must be a horrid nightmare and one day this third pile, if let to it's own, will take over and slash and cut and burn until I'm gone from the nightmare and it finds out that, maybe, it was wrong... But this one little pile also knows that there's a chance it could be right.
The Fourth Pile is the hopeless concern that I force out, play down and keep quiet. It doesn't scream and cry like the others, it merely sits there placatingly and folds in on itself, reaching out tentitively to run across the nearest wall as if to comfort quietly. It makes me feel like someday I could break away from the other three and be of use in the world; lets me see that no, I'm perhaps NOT as useless as I would have myself beleive... It makes me feel some form of a spark, the little light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, and it gently tells me that there HAS to be a way to bring them together to balance out in the end...

-Pathetic Otologist

Creaking Noises in Your Mind

2009, January 28

Feeling: Angsty, Concerned, Cornered, Angry
Doing: Thinking and Reading
Wearing: Striped Shirt and Boxers
Current Book: Harry Potter
Lyric of the Moment: Do you remember? It's playing on repeat...

The life I lead is slowly coming back to haunt me. I can't demand things from them, and yet I need to ask for small things to comfort them. I don't know what I want and what I need when I want or need them, so I ask for little things; fruit or pencils. Things I know will be used, will be of use. I feel rather guilty about it all, they seem to think It's me, though, and I have to begrudge them that... I never needed to ask for things, want things, because they would throw me in with my sister. I never had to make choices because I never had any.
When I went away, I felt like I could breathe, and when I came back from my trips, I felt like I was slipping back into this role that I was constantly trying to keep; the role of the daughter who knows how to please, how to be good... I was always told how good, how quiet, how helpful I was. And so I was broken into the belief that being good meant doing what I had been for ages; bever asking, never wanting, never needing.
It feels so odd to find these things that I want, that I crave now. It's like a new taste that you can't decide to hate or to love. It settles on you like a shock and slowly gaining on you. But you don't know if it's the shock or the actual taste of it you like or want. So you give it another, even more cautious try. And slowly you find that you can't tell the difference.
I feel as though I'm floundering, trying to find these things I can't reach and telling people I'm happy when I am just to be happy.
It's almost time to move and I feel like if I try hard enough I can change and give myself a new chance in this new place. My terminal aunt will be moving in with us and I feel like it's going to be a challenge to keep up with that pressure. Finding a job and being with my friends will take new priority and I'll force myself to buckle down for my license so I can escape when needed. Because I will need it; the one thing that will be easy for me to see and know... I'll need to escape.

-Pathetic Otologist