- Joined
- Jan 1, 2001
- Messages
- 60,096
Lying awake as the world slides past me, I feel the imaginary restraints around my head, waist, and ankles, suffocating me. My mind is what I have, it's 'me'.
Time changes, pushing you forward even when things don't move. It's that pinch above your eyebrows that makes those words one would normally throw into the air around them, be swallowed up inside a voice that seems to be the real you. Getting up is easy, move along in the day is easy. Putting on a smile is easy. Telling others how things are rough is easy, pretending they are fine is easy. But having them understand you, feel you, see you as you experience your own 'self', is impossible.
Away from thoughts you would grasp at straws trying to make things work, make words work. Attempting to put sense into an explanation that feels like you're owed something to validate the arguments and the explanation. Gestures and looks, micro expressions or body language, they fall on deaf ears, it's like you're screaming your being as a bright light into a dark night unnoticed.
A split second, a neuron making a connection, and to yourself it would make sense, into every possible second of a total time, into every possible possibility of anything. It's as if you want to say, nay, scream into the world "This!" and point at it. All around you would go: "Oh, .. of course", as if a light would turn on. But it would take an equal lifetime to explain what something would mean, possibly could ever mean, how it means to me, when I look into myself, my mind, hear my voice. Spend a split second realising and understanding myself completely, and feeling lost in it. So I lie awake, numb, but anxious, as the world slides by. Restrained by me being myself, never free.
Time changes, pushing you forward even when things don't move. It's that pinch above your eyebrows that makes those words one would normally throw into the air around them, be swallowed up inside a voice that seems to be the real you. Getting up is easy, move along in the day is easy. Putting on a smile is easy. Telling others how things are rough is easy, pretending they are fine is easy. But having them understand you, feel you, see you as you experience your own 'self', is impossible.
Away from thoughts you would grasp at straws trying to make things work, make words work. Attempting to put sense into an explanation that feels like you're owed something to validate the arguments and the explanation. Gestures and looks, micro expressions or body language, they fall on deaf ears, it's like you're screaming your being as a bright light into a dark night unnoticed.
A split second, a neuron making a connection, and to yourself it would make sense, into every possible second of a total time, into every possible possibility of anything. It's as if you want to say, nay, scream into the world "This!" and point at it. All around you would go: "Oh, .. of course", as if a light would turn on. But it would take an equal lifetime to explain what something would mean, possibly could ever mean, how it means to me, when I look into myself, my mind, hear my voice. Spend a split second realising and understanding myself completely, and feeling lost in it. So I lie awake, numb, but anxious, as the world slides by. Restrained by me being myself, never free.