my brain is a swamp
Submitted by whimsicalice on Tue, 08/19/2008 - 2:01ami am so tired.
i could say i was afraid of dreaming. this isn't true though it is true when i wake shaking and ill. i feel alien. there is a terror beneath my skin and it's ripping, ripping. it screams and pulls and kicks. it claws a bloody mess of my heart and fills my head with mosquitoes. i miss having a companion, a confidant.
loves lost are lonely. i discover no one knows me and what there is to know changes so much that i'm not sure i know her either. sometimes she's stark raving mad. sometimes she can't stop the tears. she won't ever fit in. she doesn't want to.
i want to be held i want to be held i want to be held i want to be held. i don't want any one to hold me. i want to be squeezed tight and reminded to relax. let go of the tension that locks my body and makes me ill. makes my stomach hurt, makes my head hurt, makes my heart hurt. i don't realize i've been holding my breath and then soon it'll be a quite lonesome clawing at the cold satin sheets because there is no one i want to put between them. i am hollow and i am too full. i am misunderstood and i make sure i stay that way. i say the wrong things but somehow i'm charming. i'm novel
i'm fucking novel.
entertaining.
i hate everything i love everything don't touch me. i lose touch without contact. i forget that people are warm and when they touch me i cringe while i long to relax in strong arms. i am cynical but optimistic.
i want to reach out. i want to believe love can be found. my radar must be bad. i want to hurt. i want to love. i want to fuck someone i love until i am too exhausted to move but i don't love anyone and so i don't want to fuck anyone. i am gritty. i am too delicate for casual sex. right now i feel so wrong inside.
i want to bleed.
i have strong arms
they get tired sometimes too but ym will is good, its weird u describe your brain as a swamp i sometimes refer to ym sould as a swamp too, once me and my friend Gustav were running late walkign across this path besides the highway somewhere in Gothemborg I looked over and saw this magnificent swamp, so still and quiet, so rotten, it was like if someone had pulled for an unvelibable and unique time just pulled a feeling out of my head and place it in the tangible world, I saw the most beautiful sunset there, 2 years ago... i fell on my knees in the middle of the empty street burning with the sun.
I dont know anyone who knows me either, it does change its this ground... so unsetled, so endlessly unsettled.
I could show you one song that describes all of this feelings, its a master piece of madness, too sad to be understoon, perhaps we could feel unknown to everyone together, at least your face or your words could look familiar... and maybe one day the unsetled ground would offer us wild flowers.
Elie.
Self Destruct-secuence this Station is non operational.
At The Drive In.
those moments that strike,
those moments that strike, like a fist or a match, are some of the reasons a life like this is worth traversing. the capacity to be struck so still in awe of the grotesque and or also the beautiful. Awe, and to drop to your knees to drink it in, impressing that memory for a lifetime of recollections, a chain through the years to pull you back to that Alive feeling. far from meaning. or at least, meaning can only be found in the very being of that moment, of the very existing precicely then and how. all other language and art dances around it, creating a message that is transformed by the interpreter.
i don't know. everytime i think i've got it right i fall down again.
i like how you express your ideas. i'm afraid to delineate similarities. i can't claim i ever will fully know myself, so i'll never make any assumptions about you. i love things that are rotten. if i had enough space for a studio i'd let all sorts of things rot so i could paint them at their various stages of decay. if i had enough space for a studio i'd probably go mad in there but that sort of a madness seems like a kind of heaven really.
i only ever stop by here to write in a journal that i know it is okay to say what i really feel. i have profiles across the internets, journals in a handfull of places that i hardly ever update. i haven't a whole lot of time, really. this is where i write the truths i can't share with anyone. i tell my friends how i feel inside sometimes in jest, like it's a joke. i don't want them to fear for me but really i'm scared. i just don't know that anyone would understand. i smile a lot.
i'd like to hear that song, the masterpiece of sadness. part of me really enjoys being sad. maybe i just think that because i can't escape it, like a surrender.
-alice-