About the filters of love, "potential", and Love!

"This is a poem describing the girl I fell hopelessly in love with, as her essence can’t be communicated except in epics Once, there was a girl who was, her energy mesmerized angels, her smile totalled mountains, and her eyes eclipsed the very sun. She was the kind of girl wars would be waged for. Battleships would sink from her mere presence. She was gutsy, outgoing, compassionate and made everyone fall for her. She would take long walks by rivers and fields of flowers, only to return smelling of daisies and the mist of youth. She would invade towns, spreading her blessings upon whomever fortunate enough to stumble upon her. Her giggle would stir up storms, only to vanish by the echo of her greetings. She was life, and she gave life to the people around her, so vibrant, so magnificent that the very fabric of time and space fell for her and the world as we know it came to a freakish halt. God then reversed the flow of time and put that girl in the one place her light-presumably- would never shine again… Egypt. The girl found herself trapped… She tried to glow, to break free, but her shackles were well placed, restraining her every move. That prison that bounded her made her forget who she really was, a miracle. So strong that even in the darkest catacombs of humanity she still glows a faint dim light giving away what’s contained, making those who cross her path yearn for her oasis after a hot pilgrimage in the blazing deserts. And yet, she knows not… She thinks herself a normal being…" Quoted.

About the vacuum of emptiness, and the extremes needed to hold steady!

Minions, I'm dancing around the fringes of sanity.All days are vacant, but some are so empty they become vacuum pulling me in. On days like this, I walk by nail polish remover bottles and yearn to wander the burning rivers of drinking them, type on my keyboard and imagine the short storm of smashing it against the glass of the displays, climb a ladder to reach high shelves and imagine the freedom compacted in a moment of falling, look at my screen and just yearn to the effortless distraction of hitting my head against it so hard I would maybe finally lose consciousness, don the masks for people and fantasize the deceiving power of hurting them.... and then I'm asked of how I am. On days like this, it nearly breaks my mind creating the black hole needed to suck all the yearning for extreme in, then brace every cell in place and squeeze out an "I'm bored" or an "I'm good" or a "Same old, same old." I self devour.

About prisons.

Minions,I can't breath! Some days, I'm overcome with ferocious basic need to fly, just to jump out of the viscosity of my thoughts and fly, through light air, open air, air that does not cling pulling me back into the swamps of my head, air that does not weigh me down. I am overcome by a ferocious, basic, animalistic, vital for survival need to fly, to the point that my shoulder bones tingle with the anticipation of wings sprouting any moment, to the point that my heart cracks loudly with disappointment every time wings don't. I am overcome by a ferocious, basic, animalisitc, vital for survival, heart hitching, lungs constricting, muscles tightening need to fly, to the point that every inch I don't gain in flight is added to the lumps in my throat that quickly ascend to tears in my eyes.... and then even those are kept prisoners not provided or providing release; to the point that every second I don't take off turns into years' rust sealing the grip of my chains further. Minions, I can't breath, it's too heavy being locked in here. I need to fly. 

About the stifling vastness.

Minions, I come to you estranged. I find it more less intimate everyday talking to you. Despite once thinking that was as bad as it could possibly get, I am getting worse. I find it less in my ability to remember what feeling is like, what is happy, excited, sad or overwhelmed was, how to communicate anything but surface smiles and questions. Lying caring, sympathy, devotion, passion, love have been the fall back plan for so long I really don't know if anything I think I feel is real or not any more. Emotions are all reduced to nothing but rings of themselves; *Tin* guilt *tin* meh *tin* love *tin* meh *tin* sympathy *tin* meh. Everything is so fleeting, and absolutely nothing leaves a lasting emotional impression, nothing did for quite some time now. Minions, some days I am so overcome with a fantasy of hitting my head against the wall so bad that the only thing that stops me is the contrast between how light my head is in that fantasy, and how heavy and painful it is in reality. Does anyone ever know themselves right? Is there real truth or just perceived notions of it? I am undone. Minions, I find it more less intimate everyday talking to you, myself, in the search of some sort of solid ground I managed to lose even my sense of self. I find a mental bump every time I use the pronoun I, like without completing a sentence or saying anything but "I" I'm lying. I have no clue what that "I" is. I can't circumvent using it though. Out of body experiences always seemed like an intriguing concept, maybe that;s only when there's a back to body finale to it. I lost all my homes down to the very basic of mental one. I don't feel so good. Minions, bye for now.

About organs of perception, deniable truth and hurt!

When asked why my emotional moments are always tied with words, I say the same thing I say when someone says a truth about me I did not choose to share myself, "That's not true!"
It is
I then thought about it, why words hurt, heal, or matter in the first place. I think my heart has ears, my head ears have always been bad, lots of doctors have been up in their business, they say they produce too much wax, that they close themselves off voluntarily.. I think that's why my heart grew some of its own. The thing is with ears that far inside, and this is scientifically proven, they over-compensate for the hushed voices with heightened sensitivity... They hear EVERYTHING, the lies in I love you, the self involvement in I miss you, the distinct tone difference between social and caring... They have long robbed me of comfortable lies, they have further robbed me of trusting truth when they hear it.. My heart has been hurt by its ears over and over that bad sounds shatter it because it believes them, good words shatter it because it can't. My head ears have always been bad, lots of doctors have been up in their business, they say they produce too much wax, that they close themselves off voluntarily... Head ears were smart... The heart is comically known to lack smarts, mine adheres to that stereotype like I walk the lines of cages I try to hide in forgetting the spaces between the bars are not sound proof...

About islands, oceans you can walk on and bedrooms!

Minions! I come to you stupefied... I don't understand what it is to grow out. I've seen it a million times, a human is in a disadvantage, the human reaches out, communicates the problem and they receive assistance, they accept it like extensions are second nature, like the apparent limits of our bodies are a mirage, like in truth humanity is a multi faced, limbed, minded, world covering entity; one that I am banned from. I don't understand looking for shelter in someone else's compassion, dropping self sustenance enough to confess a default lack of wholeness. I do not understand the ease of promoting the nooks of your puzzle piece edges, or what you had for lunch or how you exude love. I have spent a lifetime being the no man who is an island, I have been stormed back in every time I tested the water temperature with my toes, I am always on the outside flailing against the current to be sucked in while wishing I could give in to it. I have always been peacefully lonely, gloriously sufficient.... I have always been a very well painted exterior and a well furnished reception space, I have always feared my bedrooms to the point of leaving them fester with monsters. I have never understood the appeal of joining hands.... I still stand before it mystified. Finding that the oceans surrounding you are walk-able should have been a moment of ecstasy... it's a reflection of my paralysed limbs instead. Turns out I was always pulled in, not pushed back, turns out no one can push anyone back, turns out I am my monsters all along. Minions, I need to face the monsters first... 

About the shrinkage of will and self destructiveness!

Minions! I come to you with my soul knotted into a million tiny shards. There's something very terrifying about saying things you don't mean, something estranging from your own skin, lips, vocal cords, tongue.... like being in a car right before an accident, I shrink to let another person take over, shrink beyond my yelling at her to stop, shrink beyond my ability to connect, shrink from the massive terror of seeing something precious being destroyed due to nothing but cowardice or fear, my heart got ripped out. I have other people inside, and they imprison me, they stop my words, choke me mid sentences, they roam the muscles of my hands and stop them from extending, they stand on the corners of my eyes and stop them expressing, they block the tear ducts, they tie the tongue, they tighten my cage everyday... I am scared, and even though this has happened a million times before, I never before cared about the consequences... this time I can't live with them... I am scared to the point of pushing away everything I love enough to get scared of losing. Minions, numb is no longer ok, emptiness is no longer safe and love is no longer transient... help me on a killing spree.