0 the words won't flow

I am not sure why it is that when I want to actually put things down into words it is so hard.  My mind rambles on and on with insane thoughts and ideas all the time and yet when I actually want to lay them out they escape me.  I wish I understood this need of mine to write.  I also wish I understood my need for perfection.  I think that is why I find it so hard to write.

0 I wish I knew

why
a simple question
with an answer bigger than one might expect
with an answer one may not wish to hear

why
a common question
asked too often in the hopes of finding truth
asked too often so that one might finally understand

why
a hard question
for one to ask about the nature of life
for one to ask themselves

why
a complex question

0 it really would be nice...

"Yesterday my mind was working overtime in the crazy department. But strangely enough the idea still followed me around today. I was wondering if it was possible to teach one's self to be schizophrenic. The idea of creating and controlling (a minor deviation from the true ailment) and alter personality, one that breaks free from everything I am, on that embodies everything I wish I were, is intoxicating. More importantly, being able to shut off the part of me that is...well that is me. It would be nice to be able to turn off the feelings, fears, and anxieties that continually plague me. I already have a multitude of personalities I turn on and off all the time. But o matter which of my alter egos is running the show, I am still ever present with all my faults. My personalities have been used to hide the real me from the world, Being able to truly shut myself down and let someone else takeover would be about me being, not hiding. I realize there is some minor incongruencies in that statement, but I need to be free. The part of me longing to get out needs an opportunity to show without constantly being bombarded with my constant internal turmoil. And maybe, just maybe, being a schizophrenic is my ticket out." 03/14/2008


I still wish I could escape myself. It is why I get absorb in tv, movies, books, and writing. It is a time where I can leave myself for a while. But it is not really just about escaping myself and all of the fears and anxieties that continually reek havoc on my mind, body and soul. What I truly wish is to be the me I know is hidden away, the me that does not get a chance to shine because of my neurosis. I wish I could compartmentalize that part of me and maybe have a chance of really being me.

0 tossed aside

Her heart raced as she stood there by the river.  She could see Torrin further along the riverbed.  The mare's head bowed as she drank in the refreshing water.  Koriel gripped the golden ball that hung around her neck as though she were trying to squeeze the life out of it.  In one swift movement she yanked the chain from around her neck and toss her childhood toy into the river.  As the ball moved with the current, slowly sinking, she couldn't help but feel as though a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. 

She bowed her head down, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.  As she opened her eyes, a small shadow flashed out of the corner of her eye.  Glancing back into the river where the golden ball had made its bed, she noticed that it was no longer there.

"I believe you dropped this."  Koriel felt her heart catch at the sound of his voice.  She had half hoped he would show up again.  "Did you think that tossing it away would relieve you of your obligations?  Did you think you could toss away the gift you born with?"  She stole herself and then lifted her head to meet his gaze.  She caught the slight shake of his head as he informed her, "it is not that easy."

0 beyond the two brain theory

While the obsorbed-twin-two-brain theory has allowed me to put aside the insistent belief of a brain tumor, it also permitted me an opportunity to explain away my uniquely balanced brain.   According to an online quiz, I am 51% left brained...not a surprise when logical often runs my life.  Thus my right brain, the area considered the more creative and big picture side, holds 49% of my mental powers. 

I believe I was born more right brained and that the apparently more dominant left brain was developed as a coping mechanism.  I suffer from some emotional issues that produce some rather irrational thoughts, logics, and fears.  These issues can be traced back as early as second grade.  It seems to me that in order to cope, I needed to form some logical way to rationalize the irrational.  Order can be a great way to may the things you cannot control seem a bit easier to handle. 

If nature had been allowed to take its course free of my insanity, I think I most definitly would foster more right brain characteristics.  But maybe nature was looking out for me by helping me to develop the other half of my brain so thoroughly.  I am not sure I would (a) be alive or (b) be functioning outside of an insane asylum if not for my well balanced brain.

Unfortunately, when the irrational thoughts consume me, one of my best coping mechanisms is born in creativity.  I say unfortunately because often those sideways fears cause my logical brain to kick in to form some semblance of everything that creeps up on me.  And so I find myself frustrated and stunted, wanting more and not being able to truly grasp the part of me that so wishes to be heard.  Sometimes I wish I could shut off the left side of my brain and allow my right to set me free.

0 something to hold on to

I remember the first time I met him.  I remember the first time he smiled at me; the first time he made me laugh.  I remember the first time he tucked my hair behind my ear and stole the moment to brush the back of his fingers across my cheek and along my jaw line.  I remember the first time he kissed me; the first time I kissed him.  I remember the first time he stood behind me wrapping his arms around me and how as I leaned back into his embrace I felt like I was home.  I remember the first time he made me truly feel beautiful.  I remember the first time he looked into my eyes and told me he was in love with me.  I remember a lie, a fabrication of my imagination, for that is all he is, all he was. 

But it is time that I give him up.  It is time that I let go of what is not in the hopes that it will open me up for what is.  I have used him to feed my starving soul and I am scared to relinquish him.  Partly because I fear he is all I will ever know; all I will ever have.  But more so, I am scared of really finding him, of allowing him to find me; terrified of him truly seeing me.