A long road: Severed in Silence

I keep waiting for someone to save me. I'm not sure what leaves me feeling so helpless or continues time and again to catch my breath. I don't know what will solve these feelings or who will come on that shining white horse. Looking over the horizon, no mane is flowing in a stream of sunlight and no hoof beats are riding in on a breeze. I am sitting in this clearing of my life and I am just sitting. I have no reason to be there nor do I have reason to leave. so I'm sitting. Waiting, breathing, living.
Living?
I guess---
In transit, en route, invalid...wordplay. Each night the sun will set upon my dreams and reality will tell me when to wake and how impossible those oranges, yellows, reds, and pinks are in face of the day. I've been opening my eyes to hard blue realities, where you don't talk to me and I've loss much of what I worked towards for so long.
I miss you. And I want you to know---it's a plural you. You are the one who crossed the creek with me, the one I would run through corn alongside, the one I think I fell in love with (you hurt me perhaps past repair, I'm still reeling and I shouldn't remember you), the one who held my hand so convincingly you told me it could be real...but when the sun rose once again the promises of the night, the oranges, yellows, and reds were muted in the colors of today. of the morning. of your actions. of your consequence. My reality.
I can't love you singularly. You would hurt me and that would be more than I can handle.
but what's this you've handed me?

Retraction: an internal warfare

No one hears the ticks. They just blur into the quotidienne white noise that floats udner the air. No one can feel the tension. No one can know. Understand. Hold your breath. Wait for the rhythm to slow, inhale, repeat. Continue until it doesn't feel anymore.

Perform yourself how you want. They can touch your mask, but not your essence. Without a barrier the critics words resound with shrill pains, stinging years after. Attack. Run. Run back inside yourself. Remember why you stay there. Find your comfort, stop apologizing and be.

There will always be one, one for you.

Will it matter? It matters. Remove. Remove everything that you feel has some sort of hold on being. Who you think you are, who you want to be, who you wanted to be, who you were and can never go back to. Run. Run the water over yourself and cry so you can no longer hear. Burn everything until it's untraceable. Reinvent, stage a differnet play. Even if you are the one person standing in the back, amongst a crowd of laughter stand strong. Even if they're laughing at you, play your role. Play the best damn role you have and hold on to it. Steadfast, for if you falter, you have already diminished. The you you were, is no more.

Once broken, no amount of repair will replenish the various voids and cracks. Your whole person is disembled. You become a ghost to yourself; only to return in glimpses of memory and manerisms. You lose.

And even then...It's not the same.

A hopelessness that must be explored

Lately, I've been struggling for an identification. I'm struggling for the comprehension of so many broad concepts; language, labels, emotions. What are these things? We know them and identify them in their own existence but what's to say that it's concrete. Ambiguity and generality reigns supreme and I'm finding it hard to not be taken with the tide. Refusing to nod in agreement 'just because', I'm being devoured. Thoughts surround me and enforce a coat of indignation and resentment.

Unable to get past these things, everything is being depreciated. My head is bobbing not but a breath above water and I'm having that out of body experience where you watch yourself, in all of your faults and (for that matter) all the faults inherited by humanity. I'm encompassed. Confined and marinating. Literally drowning in my own confines. Trying to understand how I'm using my thought process, thoughts actualized in language, to somehow transform confines to fluid clarity, floating in free space.

I'm struggling with morality and self worth and whys and hows and pieces of the puzzle that are forming epiphanic moments full of lucid limitation. Experimentation is a hazy line to walk; where you're never quite sure of whether you're evolving the you you once were or are completely deviating into something that could be just dangerous or even worse redundant.

Individuality basks in the glow of those who have already traversed these ambiguities, where dirt is road and road is wilderness and none of us know where we are going until we've already been there. I think we make limits as protections. What's to be done if we fall from a peak that has never been climbed? Once broken, we can never be put back together just as before...we can never go back to being unbreakable. Boundaries make us invincible.

The only time I feel any freedom is when I find myself caught in a moment, free of self scrutiny, morality, boundary; free of judgment---free of society, only floating below my mind. These moments rush through my veins so quickly I know they will leave tracks, but it takes time for them to sear into the previously damaged tissue.

We're all fucked up, in one way or another. We all have therapies, most of which are to the disapproval of society. Some of us run away; we hide, we pretend, we rationalize. Others of us run toward; we indulge, we forget, we wake in the dawn of danger. We hurt you because we hurt ourselves.

I'm just beginning to understand that our fevers burn us deeper than we'll ever know.