My entire night was a Baz Luhrmanesque dream sequence. It was bigger than life, gaudily colourful and full of musical numbers..and if that wasn't enough, there was an entire scene dedicated to freudian conversation amongst people I know and some I don't about some past happenings of my life that I didn't think I'd ever divulge even if I were set on fire..on my pyre..but there it was..stark naked and freely discussed, while I stood there sheepish..waiting for someone to get mad at me, and somehow everyone looked so extremely sane and rational without the slightest hint of anger or even raised voices.
What was going on? Everything seemed so free and happy and yet somehow creepy. I wanted to be a part of it, but kept taking a step back.
It's like I know what's good for me, and yet I don't freely give in to it, because I know how much it will hurt. Stupid hurt, that which can't be seen..only felt; the pain of which is so searing I know it'd tear me apart..and I have not the will to in me to push it away.
Ah but look what it's really caused. Fear, paranoia, stress..so much so that I fell physically sick and still recuperating, and keep relapsing time and again.
The best part is I know, just like I did I my dream that getting out of it would do me a world of good. It'd stop the anxiety, the stress, kill the fear and extinguish my paranoia..but no. I gain nothing submerged in this quagmire (oh this lovely quagmire) except happiness that I believe is happiness. To me it is. It's the invisible warmth, unseen unreal love..all of which belongs to me..none whatsoever is mine to claim.
ugh.
What was going on? Everything seemed so free and happy and yet somehow creepy. I wanted to be a part of it, but kept taking a step back.
It's like I know what's good for me, and yet I don't freely give in to it, because I know how much it will hurt. Stupid hurt, that which can't be seen..only felt; the pain of which is so searing I know it'd tear me apart..and I have not the will to in me to push it away.
Ah but look what it's really caused. Fear, paranoia, stress..so much so that I fell physically sick and still recuperating, and keep relapsing time and again.
The best part is I know, just like I did I my dream that getting out of it would do me a world of good. It'd stop the anxiety, the stress, kill the fear and extinguish my paranoia..but no. I gain nothing submerged in this quagmire (oh this lovely quagmire) except happiness that I believe is happiness. To me it is. It's the invisible warmth, unseen unreal love..all of which belongs to me..none whatsoever is mine to claim.
ugh.
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