Tell tale signs.

July 4, 2013 § 3 Comments


Wintertime Sadness

Wintertime Sadness (Photo credit: BAV-Wutson)

 

 

Where is my mind?” – Where is my mind – The Pixes. 

I’ve thought about it. Sure. I don’t think I’m ashamed to say that I’ve thought about it. It isn’t so much that I resisted it as that I never considered it an option in the first place. I don’t think I could be that cruel, that selfish, that brave. It’s a sticky sort of situation this. Coming to terms with exactly how I’ve been wired. The frayed cross currents. The parts that I frayed myself. The parts that were always going to end up frayed. Buzzing and clicking and humming up in there. Kicking and keeping me up in night time. Hissing and whirring as I hold on to the bed for sweet quiet balance. It’s all thunder clouds up there. Clouds with no rain. Just dark, unforgiving clouds. Thunder. Lighting. No rain. It’s the moments when you are alone when you start to realise exactly how bad you’ve let yourself get. I catch my breath. It’s all my own doing up there. Every loose wire. Every wet board. Every millimetre of misplaced plug. I think about it some more.

When I was younger I used to think about the hangovers I got. I used to listen to normal people complain. It was the physical pain they would talk about. Always the physical. “My stomach” they’d say, “my liver”. I’d sit next to them and wish for that pain. I’d sit next to them climbing the walls inside my own head. Like a desperate lonely permanent prisoner in cell that was all tall walls and no windows. Paranoia. The sweet sweat of that very close madness. Lonely. Alienating. Desperate, desperate, desperate. “This isn’t normal.” I’d think. “I’m not normal” I’d think as those cell walls grew taller and the real world seemed just a little more distant. A little more unreachable. I lock myself away to face it alone. To try and get on top of it without any distractions. Some days it felt like pushing the lock home in a small room and turning to face a tiger. I’d have taken a tiger. All claws and physical fight. A simple fight. Oh no. No luxury like that for me. My battle was upstairs. It was a thinking man’s battle. You can’t land punches up there. You can take them though. You can take them. They hurt more too. Do more damage.

You want to fight but it hides. It’s waits until your on your own. Then it sneaks up and pulls you into the darkness with it. And you go. You fall with it. The darkness smothers and engulfs you. You disappear. You fumble and you scratch for that saving grace, that light in the darkness, a reason, any reason more than not to hurt, a reason to leave it. I’ve thought about, sure, I’ve thought about.

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