Fear

 

Maybe if I keep this up I’ll be prepared for it all. Maybe if I prepare for all of the worst it won’t be so bad when they happen.

It’s maybe this, maybe that…it’s hard to keep track.

You tell me everything will be fine and that in time I’ll believe you; but can that really be true?

I’m so jaded by what’s real and what isn’t, that pretending you’re a dream and I’ll wake up is the easiest explanation.

Bring me back, reality; therefore I won’t fear the dream. I’m constantly battling the fantasy of fairytale.

 

Advertisements

And Next

There are people you move on and away from.

To them I say, “I am not sad that I no longer know you.”

Experience is like the peeler to the fruit, carefully getting to what’s within. Most times I don’t like what’s inside.

“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Devouring Recesses

You’re an unwelcome visitor. Trespassing. You stomp through the serene meadows and swiftly chop down all signs of life. You hunt for sport. You kill for power. The enigmatic overflows of dreamless notes are devoured into your darkness.

In the after glow of a great book moment you eat away. Chipping. Gnawing. You gather in all the recesses. You are a plague.

Your hunger is insatiable. All that is will be yours. All that can be taken and broken shall be. You are an ever brewing wake.

In you I see evil. I feel it. Taste it. In you are all the darkest values and desires. To you life is what you can take out of it. What can be removed. Tangible, delectable, destruction. We are the galaxy and you are the sun. Revolved. Distorted. Your surface ever-changing yet mirrored.

You are hard to define because in that would be to know you. There is no one that knows you. Chopped character flaws. Descriptions and whispers.

To say you are anything would mean you were complete. You are without. You are wanting. Destitute and diluted.

I wish I had strayed away from you. Toxic and overbearing, misleading and mindful. We falter to those who need. Interpretations to the lust misunderstood. I’m left, pieces stranded, puzzle. Shapes. Angular and incomplete.

You are the night.

You are the nothing.

Timeline

Life is like a rocket ship through space. Quickly moving through what seems like…nothingness. Possible collisions. Surrounded by unknown. The furthest reaches are slicked with fear, black ice. Here we race.

We can quantify all the significant moments in our life. I feel like there’s a file drawer somewhere filled with empty folders. I believe them to be pre-labeled. Ready to be filled.

Life doesn’t seem to be moment by moment. It’s chunk of time by chunk of time.

Feels so quick. Like that rocket. Traveling. Constant. The deaths are the ends of journeys. We made it to the moon but how? It’s that. The recollection. The reliving. The remembrance. Don’t you feel it? It’s the culminating moments. Who we were when making our way.

We’ve been so many versions of ourselves and continue to change.

I’m not sure who I’ll be a year from now but there will be some part of me that I’ll miss.

It’s always about the way we were.

140 Characters

Jamey M. H.@jigglejams

I thought it was IBS but it was really WRT.

Things like this make me laugh. Hysterically. And for days. Why? Because to me it is hilarious on multiple levels.

Level 1: The stress, anxiety, albeit hardship of my relationship (on multiple occasions) has literally made me ill.

Level 2: Ha! Just called the ex the “shit.”

Level 3: IBS – A widespread condition involving recurrent abdominal pain and diarrhea or constipation, often associated with stress, depression, anxiety, or previous intestinal infection.

As you can see Level 1 and 3 are related, more exclusively then in Level 2. Level 2 really is to make me laugh. Now the Tweet is fully explained. (I received some confusion)

Personal issue: I do not like giving credit where credit is due. More exclusively in the male category, when the males behaviors affect my life. I do not like to feel less than. More importantly made a fool of. In my situation both of those things happened. So now I have this self-burdening aftermath.

It’s always interesting to self examine. The things you can realize on your own, though inspired.

My “personal issue” as stated above also has a “silver lining” that I pretend* is the route cause. I feel it’s immature to put it all, whatever that is, on to a guy. In each scenario I must have had a downfall as well. The seed growing the plant of failure was that of my own. I am that seed. My life being the plant. Here we sit in the garden of WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING. This I know is not true in all interactions, however.

Why do I like my tweet? Because it’s giving credit where credit is due. That SOB can suck a D.

Jamey M. H.@jigglejams

Emotionally I am #Xena but physically I am #Gabrielle.

*Other life events have made this a regular thought process of mine, since childhood. We are addicts of rhythmic insanity, cycling our insignificance that only we legitimize.