So here’s the part where I start whining like a little girl again. I want my best friend back, and I’d give anything to relive those years again. Those were good times. We’ve changed so much its weird. Like two strangers meeting up peering into each other’s worlds and marveling at it.
I like sitting around with coffee and doing nothing. You don’t. You like chilling with the guys, playing soccer and dota and what have you. I don’t. I miss you friend. I miss all those silly nicknames and fish and chips at the market. Ah wells.
I’m done with my whole nostalgia crap. I’m tired of being a broken recorder anyway. And hey, I really really like this font. I wonder what it is.
Filed under: The inexplicable things that occur
I feel like I’m straddling the edge of a nervous breakdown or perhaps a panic attack. There is something within me, a ball of energy if you must, that’s rolling around my stomach, struggling to get out. It’s taking everything I have to keep it inside. Because somewhere within me, I know that I can’t let it out. This energy, this terrible ball cannot be given the green light to escape. There will be ramifications, though I can’t say what for sure.
There is something dark within, and the light I found just mere days ago, has once again slipped my grasp. I am flailing around, trying to remember to breathe, to live. I cannot conjure up my refuge. Cannot seem to steep myself back in the dreams that bring me comfort and the promise that everything shall pass one day. When I do remember to breathe, I cant seem to get enough oxygen inside. Can’t take in the gulps of oxygen so vital for my survival. My body seems to be repelling everything as quickly as I take in more.
My mind is so far gone in panic that I am no longer aware of much around me. I don’t realise that I’ve been sweating incessantly till my shirt starts sticking to my back. My imagined claustrophobia gets worse with everyone crowding me. My paranoia increases and I can’t shake off the impression that people are staring, judging. The walls make me feel more constrained, cooped up. I get off the train, but it doesn’t help much. I have to remind myself to breathe again. It is not yet time to die.
The panic and the fear are slowly building up. It is irrational, this fear and this panic.
My head hurts. I hurt everywhere. I can feel that mysterious ball twisting at the base of my stomach. Its waiting, biding its time. I need to get away, need a place that can shelter me, bring me the peace I cannot seem to retain.
I run through the people I know in my head. But no one seems a likely candidate for me to call, for me to confide in, to ask for help. I can already hear the ridicule in their voices, the disbelief and the inevitable line that I am being melodramatic again. My cries will go unanswered, they always do.
I want to cry. I know that crying will be a form of release somehow. But the tears won’t fall. Loneliness never feel as bad till I start having my episodes. Today is not the first time this has happened. Not the first time I run away because of that ball that’s twisting. Not the first time I have to fight to keep breathing.
They won’t let me off, these monsters in my head. But what frightens me most, aren’t the episodes. Its the knowledge that I am facing this alone.
We kill, we lie, we hurt, we take, we break.
We use, we throw, we maim, we humiliate.
Yet we still love, we protect, we care and we save.
One day, we’ll be extinct.
The irony in that while saving, we damn ourselves by slaughtering.
Does it make you feel like a man when you rape
Does it make you feel stronger when you kill
Does it make you feel powerful when you ridicule someone smaller
Does it cause you joy to stab someone in the back
We laugh we cry we smile we fuck
We apologize only to repeat the cycle once again
We are damned to flail around
Too stupid to realise the enormity of our actions
We are but monsters
Monsters who look like you and me
Monsters who live breathe and laugh
We are all monsters.
