come in closer

I can't sleep, so wide awake. Our souls are useless, the truth is lethal. I don't know what is real. I hear things that are there and I can't bring myself to believe they are. Why do we feel? Does it accomplish anything? We should just let it go, release the emotions from within our shells. You held my hand, and we took in everything together. At some point I realized I was alone, even though you were next to me. Our hearts were on display, or were they? Is it possible to see another's heart? I choke up thinking of it, or am I choking on something else?

I float away to another dimension, to another time... another place. I am the same there as I am here. This terrifies me, I don't want to be that girl. Have you ever carried something heavy? You want so bad to set it down, it begins to hurt your fingers, and you get this dull ache through your arms- yet you keep chugging along carrying it to wherever it needs to go. I want to come unglued, if only to piece myself back together. Is it possible to fix something broken if it isn't currently shattered?

I'm floating farther away- dare to look inside. It might scare you at first, I know it scares me most days. This is who I am. I want. What? I'm not that scared. Compared to what? There we go again with the what. Everything in this life is so relative. Relative to this, or to that, or even pertaining to your relatives. There are keys to every lock. They might be hidden, requiring you to reach far within some dark abyss. All I wanna do is be.

Or are there keys to every lock? Now that I've said it I start to think about the context... perhaps its untrue. Maybe I just lied to you. Don't look at that part of me, don't see my ugly side. See the me I want you to see. See the me that smiles. You can't know- but you have to know don't you? What is a smile? Those muscles in my face that contort into something beautiful, helping me hide.

Someone grab a candle, help me light up this tomb. Maybe it will turn literal. Maybe that's why I burn, I am simply trying to illuminate the truth. Cutting is destructive. I like that sometimes, when I'm frustrated. I view myself as a painting. Sometimes I am the artist, sometimes I am the critic, sometimes I am the contemplative one who stares at myself hanging in the museum. How am I supposed to breathe?

Windows. Are they really see through? Or maybe they reflect. I think it's just that I wish they reflected so that when I looked through one and saw something amazing it would really be me. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Maybe this is why I think they are reflective. I look in that bathroom mirror and I see this... person staring back at me. Is this my weak spot? Can we pretend? I could probably pretend. Who am I kidding? I can almost always pretend... or at least I used to be able to. Lately I am too exhausted to do such things.

There it goes- over there. Or is it over here? A quiet mind. Where did that go? Where is the line for normality? I don't care how long it is, as long as I can be assured that at the end, when I reach the beginning I will be well. What if there is something trapped in my body? I think that in fact it's not my body. Instead that I am the thing stuck inside. What about that inner glow? They say it comes from within. Within. Now there's a word I could spend some time thinking about. Two parts- "with" and "in." It would seem to infer that something resides "with" us, "in"side of us. Maybe this something is just us, or another part of ourselves... sitting in the shell that most refer to as a body.

Sometimes I have control over it, but always at the most useless times. Currently I have the power to control these fingers to type these words that the brain came up with and the mouth doesn't have the ability to say. Who decides what parts of this body I have control over and at what times? It becomes my home.

Congratulations. Let's go for a walk, maybe even a run. Through a forest? By a river. My mind will race by them all. You can grab it, hold it in your hands... or can you? There is a spectrum of emotions. I am convinced I don't feel them all. Let's start with the one on the brain now- anger. I don't recall ever feeling angry. The closest I've become is frustrated.

I could never take this back could I? I'd like to change your mind about me. I would like to tell you that I am fine. It just dawned on me why I am still alive. I simply don't see the point to die, anymore than I see the point to live. Just let me go away. There are a thousand ways to waste time, and so few ways to spend it reasonably. We should help other people. Shouldn't we? Don't argue with me on this one, it's true. It's a given that the world would be a better place if the details didn't bog us down.

Who created curvy lines? I don't care about who made the straight ones... but who's bright idea was it one day to curve a line? To make it into a painful circle? Or even a spiral? There's something that I can't quite explain, and you'll never take that away will you?

Pull me in or push me away, just make it quick so I can accept whatever may come. Remember my arms are open wide, whether I want them to be or not.