Tag Archives: emotions

In my head

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I stop blogging when I get inside my head too much – or when I can’t stop thinking long enough to write out all of my thoughts. It’s an endless self-analytic process that oftentimes leads me down a tricky path straight into the clutches of self-doubt. I go brain-dead while trying to figure things out and then I end up in a whirring downward spiral of ‘what-if‘s and ‘if-I-could-change-the-past’s. My thoughts get stuck in my brain and I’m unable to spit them out and post them with any version of cohesion. While My Future is staring me in the face with annoying intensity, I can’t even use my most trusted medium (writing) to set my thoughts free. I’m fully stuck in my head contemplating.

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Topics of Random: My Dreams

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When I’m not an insomniac, I’m a dreamer. I dream intuitively as often as I dream symbolically, I’ve been known to dream with odd premonitory accuracy (it runs in my family) as much as I dream in random abstracts. I’ve learned to dream semi-lucidly, in part because my dreams are never not nightmares (except when I’m dreaming about dead people,) or to actively choose to dream from the point of view of an observer instead of a participant. My dreams, when I have them and remember them, are fascinating and intriguing and I constantly analyze them so as to classify them as “more real,” or “more symbolic,”  depending on the dream, itself.

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Snap

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It’s a nightmare all over again. I’m dazed in madness… again, again, again. I either keep making the same mistakes or I keep misunderstanding how others interpret my actions or words. Somehow my words written in digital black and white, flat and void of emotion, translate into opportunities for assumptions to be made, applications of past and present personas – not mine – to be superimposed on what I have actually said, TYPED, in ‘Arial Narrow.’

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Clear as Mud

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“He has to be dead to you. Dead. Incinerated, in this case. DEAD.”

(“There’s no way I’ll be able to do it alone, I’m telling you now, I can’t.”)

I know I can’t or maybe I know I won’t because the potential trust I longed for seemed to be right there within reach – but it was equally as reliable as the mind-numbing anguish that came hand-in-hand. I became a catalyst for my own self-destruction even after realizing through tried and true (and dutifully proven, repeatedly,) evidence that “it” would never change. Yet..

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Bleeding out

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A year ago and a betrayal followed by an unfair scorning that lead to my burning everything to the ground to save someone else. A judgement unfairly placed without the chance to explain. Accepting blame not mine to preserve the innocence of three potential inheritances of the crossfire . Blinding anger. Searing pain. Aloneness. Ever-present aloneness, deeply rooted in self-sacrifice for all the wrong reasons. Scars on my forearm, less noticeable to me than the scars I can barely hide from you. Hate. Pity. Loss. Nothing to fight for. Everything and yet nothingness to lash out, fight out, scream out.. give up, give in, surrender.

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