#free writing
Must it be a breakdown always, a tsunami making shrapnel of even the most deeply rooted foundations, to confront a corner of your psyche? Let me put away the bulldozer and turn instead to a trowel, fistful after fistful of dirt brushed away until the skyscraper tilts and topples. Let me turn my inherencies into sand castles moistened by the ocean spray, until the parapets crumble softly into the keep, ready to be molded anew.
I feel absolutely manic. Everything in my head is spinning. If I close my eyes, it’s like all my thoughts are compiled and tangible and spinning around the sides of my brain like a carnival ride. Everything’s going to fast and you can’t make out anything, just like you can’t make out people’s faces when they’re going round and round. I feel joyous and irritated. I want to do a million little things, like make an email address for every twitter name I can think of, even though I don’t have any twitter friends and absolutely no one follows me. I feel nauseous. Like I’m going to puke, but I know I won’t, ‘cause I know what it really feels like when you’re about to puke and it isn’t this. I’m hyper-focused. When I close my eyes, I can see different, random surroundings. And people and animals moving, They’re not real. Animated? Sometimes it’s suspended animation. Maybe. It’s hard to describe it with my eyes open when I only see things when they’re closed. Except for little, tiny black dots. And the swirling waves of blood vessels in my eyes. It’s kinda disgusting, when you think about it. Except, I’ve been thinking a lot about veins and blood and DNA and wondering how much of this craziness flows through them. Is the problem in the chemicals in my head or in the blood in my veins? Is it MY fault, or is the problem in my DNA? Am I the first-born nutjob addict or do I come from a long line of them? I know it doesn’t matter, but I guess I’d just like to know. This nausea is awful. I think maybe in my hurried, disoriented state I ate way too much food. I swear I feel high or drunk but I haven’t touched a thing. AWARE. That’s how I’m feeling. On a plane of hyper-awareness. When I close my eyes, sometimes people talk to me when I have conversations with myself in my head. Like my mind making up people so it’s doesn’t seem so crazy that I’m talking to myself. It’s all word salad, too. Or little phrases that don’t mean a thing out of context, and it IS out of context, because it’s going on in my head and none of it’s real. I just paused and closed my eyes, and I saw a beach. Not the whole beach – just the sand, and a bird walking on it, leaving footprints, but I only saw his yellow legs too. But it’s immersive. It’s like I’m there. I hear music, but nothing’s playing. It’s songs, and they all run together. Sometimes it’s songs that exist, sometimes it’s just nonsense my head makes up. Words strung together that don’t make sense, or even just sounds that I couldn’t recreate with my mouth. How long have I been sitting here? I’ve been taking breaks to use my vape thing and close my eyes and breathe. Sometimes I catch myself forgetting to take a breath. I think I need to take some meds and lay down, or watch some neutral tv. Fuck it; I’m not editing this mess. It is what it is. A mess. I’m a mess.
