Aug 2020
I HAVE BEEN THINKING —THOUGH SINCE I AM A SENTIENT CREATURE OF A PARTICULARLY EXISTENTIAL TEMPERAMENT, THAT IS AN UNNECESSARY STATEMENT BEYOND SIMPLE INTRODUCTION— BUT I HAVE BEEN THINKING AND MY MIND HAS DECIDED TO WANDER ONCE AGAIN DOWN A WELL-TRODDEN PATH OF DECAYED LEAVES AND LEANING TREES AND SHADOWED CREATURES GLIMPSED OUT OF THE CORNER OF AN EYE —A PATH THAT I CANNOT SEEM TO FENCE OFF. MY MIND’S A TRACEUR, AND MENTAL PARKOUR IS UNSURPRISINGLY EFFECTIVE AGAINST THE SIMPLE CHAIN-LINK FENCE ONE MAKES ON THEIR OWN WITH HOME-BAKED COPING MECHANISMS AND INSPIRATIONAL WORDS PASTED OVER OLD WALLPAPER.
I’VE TRIED MY BEST TO CONTAIN THE DAMAGE, BUT OFTEN I FIND MYSELF WRITING IT OFF AS COLLATERAL. I LOSE SEVERAL HOURS, ADRIFT IN MY HEAD DOWN TWISTING PATHS WORN INTO THE FOREST FLOOR BY ANIMALS ARMED WITH TEETH AND CLAWS AND BURNING EYES, AND ALL I CAN DO IS EXCUSE IT, BECAUSE WHO AM I WITHOUT MY OVERACTIVE THOUGHTS? WHAT AM I IF I AM NOT ALWAYS REACHING INWARDS AND OUTWARDS TO TRY AND MAKE SENSE OF THE UNKNOWABLE?
IF IT IS INSANITY, TO REACH FOR WHAT YOU CAN NEVER HAVE AND TO TRY AND KNOW WHAT YOU CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND, THEN I MIGHT VERY WELL BE INSANE. HONSELTY, THERE IS VERY LITTLE I CAN DO TO AVOID IT.
THE ONLY PROBLEM WITH THAT, REALLY, IS THAT I AM LONESOME LIKE THIS. MY TONGUE TRIPS ON THE TANTALIZING WITTICISMS THAT MIGHT OTHERWISE ENTICE COMPANIONSHIP, CAUGHT UP IN THE COBWEBS OF MY SKITTERING, BRANCHING THOUGHTS. WORDS STUMBLE OVER EACH OTHER IN A SWIFT WHITE-WATER RIVER OF SPEECH THAT HARDLY MAKE IT PAST MY LIPS BEFORE THE NEXT THOUGHT IS WORMING ITS WAY TO THE FOREFRONT.
TIME AND TIME AGAIN, I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO SLOW DOWN, TO TEMPER MYSELF, BUT HOW CAN I EVER SETTLE FOR BEING LESS THAN I AM? I AM LONELY, SURELY, BUT I THINK IT WOULD ONLY BE MORE ISOLATING TO KNOW THE PERSON NEXT TO ME AND KNOW THAT THEY WILL NEVER TRULY COMPREHEND ME IN TURN.
THAT IS OKAY, THOUGH. I WOULD NOT WANT THEM TO TRIP ON THE VINES OF PAST AND PAIN AND COMPOUNDING DEPRECATION THAT WEAVE THEMSELVES THROUGH THE SLIGHTEST GAPS IN MY PSYCHE WHENEVER THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS ITSELF. NO ONE DESERVES THAT. IT IS BETTER THAT I AM ALONE.
ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS.
h.f.m.
I’VE TRIED MY BEST TO CONTAIN THE DAMAGE, BUT OFTEN I FIND MYSELF WRITING IT OFF AS COLLATERAL. I LOSE SEVERAL HOURS, ADRIFT IN MY HEAD DOWN TWISTING PATHS WORN INTO THE FOREST FLOOR BY ANIMALS ARMED WITH TEETH AND CLAWS AND BURNING EYES, AND ALL I CAN DO IS EXCUSE IT, BECAUSE WHO AM I WITHOUT MY OVERACTIVE THOUGHTS? WHAT AM I IF I AM NOT ALWAYS REACHING INWARDS AND OUTWARDS TO TRY AND MAKE SENSE OF THE UNKNOWABLE?
IF IT IS INSANITY, TO REACH FOR WHAT YOU CAN NEVER HAVE AND TO TRY AND KNOW WHAT YOU CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND, THEN I MIGHT VERY WELL BE INSANE. HONSELTY, THERE IS VERY LITTLE I CAN DO TO AVOID IT.
THE ONLY PROBLEM WITH THAT, REALLY, IS THAT I AM LONESOME LIKE THIS. MY TONGUE TRIPS ON THE TANTALIZING WITTICISMS THAT MIGHT OTHERWISE ENTICE COMPANIONSHIP, CAUGHT UP IN THE COBWEBS OF MY SKITTERING, BRANCHING THOUGHTS. WORDS STUMBLE OVER EACH OTHER IN A SWIFT WHITE-WATER RIVER OF SPEECH THAT HARDLY MAKE IT PAST MY LIPS BEFORE THE NEXT THOUGHT IS WORMING ITS WAY TO THE FOREFRONT.
TIME AND TIME AGAIN, I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO SLOW DOWN, TO TEMPER MYSELF, BUT HOW CAN I EVER SETTLE FOR BEING LESS THAN I AM? I AM LONELY, SURELY, BUT I THINK IT WOULD ONLY BE MORE ISOLATING TO KNOW THE PERSON NEXT TO ME AND KNOW THAT THEY WILL NEVER TRULY COMPREHEND ME IN TURN.
THAT IS OKAY, THOUGH. I WOULD NOT WANT THEM TO TRIP ON THE VINES OF PAST AND PAIN AND COMPOUNDING DEPRECATION THAT WEAVE THEMSELVES THROUGH THE SLIGHTEST GAPS IN MY PSYCHE WHENEVER THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS ITSELF. NO ONE DESERVES THAT. IT IS BETTER THAT I AM ALONE.
ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS.
h.f.m.
