May 2017
I have moments
I have episodes
Lapses in time when the insecurities rise.
Like a flipping of a switch I disappear and the circus comes to town a silent exposure of my doubts and fears.
It's around the same time everyday, as the sun sets they come out to play. Just for an hour maybe a half of one or 2. And It swallows me whole, I am numb, a lack luster blue.
They say these different things all the people outside my pity tent of invisibility. They wonder why the quiet smile left my face, Why I don't mutter a word, the culprit is my over sensitivity.
Sometimes they don't notice at all and it's a cold contentment not to be needed, like a bullet I take gladly, no one even heeded, how I shut myself up
in a cocoon I am curled, I ran away in my mind to a foreign inviting world. Just me and my thoughts I am alone and I'm to blame. They whisper my name in passing but at least they know it all the same. They grab my wrists hoping I'll trip
and even with the tightest of grip I do not fall for I am more than used to this. And I become the observer to the life my shell is living. Distant, my eyes a screen and behind them in a theatre I am sitting.
Why is there comfort in the silence, in the distant, and the doubt? It's not self hatred but a warm euphoria that covers me when I am down. Why am I like this and how did I build this world? Whose the ring master of this circus who leads this parade of emptiness that follows me around the world?
I feel it growing in my chest a pleasant nuisance, this hole custom just for me. I don't mind it I don't fight it for soon enough it will flee.
And do not think for an inkling of a moment that what I have described is insanity but rather the core of human nature, the desperation of wanting someone to notice me.
I have episodes
Lapses in time when the insecurities rise.
Like a flipping of a switch I disappear and the circus comes to town a silent exposure of my doubts and fears.
It's around the same time everyday, as the sun sets they come out to play. Just for an hour maybe a half of one or 2. And It swallows me whole, I am numb, a lack luster blue.
They say these different things all the people outside my pity tent of invisibility. They wonder why the quiet smile left my face, Why I don't mutter a word, the culprit is my over sensitivity.
Sometimes they don't notice at all and it's a cold contentment not to be needed, like a bullet I take gladly, no one even heeded, how I shut myself up
in a cocoon I am curled, I ran away in my mind to a foreign inviting world. Just me and my thoughts I am alone and I'm to blame. They whisper my name in passing but at least they know it all the same. They grab my wrists hoping I'll trip
and even with the tightest of grip I do not fall for I am more than used to this. And I become the observer to the life my shell is living. Distant, my eyes a screen and behind them in a theatre I am sitting.
Why is there comfort in the silence, in the distant, and the doubt? It's not self hatred but a warm euphoria that covers me when I am down. Why am I like this and how did I build this world? Whose the ring master of this circus who leads this parade of emptiness that follows me around the world?
I feel it growing in my chest a pleasant nuisance, this hole custom just for me. I don't mind it I don't fight it for soon enough it will flee.
And do not think for an inkling of a moment that what I have described is insanity but rather the core of human nature, the desperation of wanting someone to notice me.
Wrote this walking around Chicago just feeling incredibly numb and spaced out. I used to be really sick and I'm better now but this used to be my thought process and self image struggle.
