I'm frustrated. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I am displeased with it's current condition and it seeks its revenge with hot, itchy welts. Fueled by heat and anxiety my body becomes my enemy. We are not one. My mind contrives. Keeps me reeling, looking for distractions to avoid my feelings. Walking through mud, lost without a map, but a calm center waiting for her pieces to quit it with their tantrums.
I know I keep it in. Bottle it up with only a slight pressure valve to prevent utter explosion. I suffer to my own coping skills. This is not working. And this is the second time my writing has interrupted my plans. Twice now something has come over me. An unavoidable compulsion to express. Although not unusual in the sense that my writing pattern consists of mostly silent suffering with a mask of composure and optimism (all of which I truly desire, hence why I practice). But then it all begins to crumble. I sit in the rubble, itchy and annoyed, wanting to communicate my feelings to someone. but not finding the words or eloquence when speaking. It comes out like rambling from a resident of Babel. My mind freezes and stutters when confronted with interpersonal communication focused on me. I'm sure it has something to do with low self esteem, blah blah. Logically I know the workings of my being, but it doesn't make it any easier to make the positive changes I want. Even though the tendrils of fear run deep
...that's where it ended - abruptly. I've had this saved for a month now in drafts. I've been holding on to it. I let it go.
I know I keep it in. Bottle it up with only a slight pressure valve to prevent utter explosion. I suffer to my own coping skills. This is not working. And this is the second time my writing has interrupted my plans. Twice now something has come over me. An unavoidable compulsion to express. Although not unusual in the sense that my writing pattern consists of mostly silent suffering with a mask of composure and optimism (all of which I truly desire, hence why I practice). But then it all begins to crumble. I sit in the rubble, itchy and annoyed, wanting to communicate my feelings to someone. but not finding the words or eloquence when speaking. It comes out like rambling from a resident of Babel. My mind freezes and stutters when confronted with interpersonal communication focused on me. I'm sure it has something to do with low self esteem, blah blah. Logically I know the workings of my being, but it doesn't make it any easier to make the positive changes I want. Even though the tendrils of fear run deep
...that's where it ended - abruptly. I've had this saved for a month now in drafts. I've been holding on to it. I let it go.
No comments:
Post a Comment