Key Blame Suffer Lose
I have decided that I deliberately make myself difficult to love. I bristle when there's little need for anger, I find myself upset when there's little need for tears (though I do enjoy weeping for no other reason but weeping) and quite often a certain despair visits me for no particular reason -- though that feeling, I suspect, has genuine causes that outnumber those of the other "false" feelings.
An example of this intricate and convoluted personal quirk? This past weekend was both an exceedingly wonderful retreat and a simmering, seething hell -- a duplicity brought on, no doubt, by that certain knack I have for refusing to believe that things are "all right" when, in fact, they generally are. It's overwhelmingly frustrating, sometimes, when through the brain-made fog there shines the light of unbiased self-inspection and I see what I'm doing. I see the pointless anger, I see the irrational grief, I see the illogically-magnified fear...and I grow completely disgusted with myself. Oh! This in turn, I think, brings on more of these nonsensical emotions -- and then the entire psychological situation turns cyclical. Snake eating its own tail, yes? Oh...I'm Ouroboros. I am!
How much sense this all makes! And so suddenly!
This is what undoubtedly colored my weekend. This cerebral, intangible morass of terrifyingly unidentifiable origins. I shouldn't have flung the cursory remarks that I wielded like stones this weekend. I shouldn't have ignored you for so long, though the books were wonderful. I shouldn't have gotten so mad over a situation that wasn't worth much in the way of anger. I shouldn't have done so many things! Oh, I was absolutely terrible for nearly three days; I was nowhere near approachable...nowhere near civil to those I love most. How completely beastly of me. How sickening I am.
In the most quavering and heart-breaking of voices: "Let all the hurt inside of you die."
There are more things to impart, more indelible marks of comfort and glittering slices of security and brilliant fragments of happiness that I experienced this weekend...but I suppose that should wait. A warm room lit by yellow light while wind whistles and house shakes and psyche-barriers break reminds me that I have amends to make and love to assure.
An example of this intricate and convoluted personal quirk? This past weekend was both an exceedingly wonderful retreat and a simmering, seething hell -- a duplicity brought on, no doubt, by that certain knack I have for refusing to believe that things are "all right" when, in fact, they generally are. It's overwhelmingly frustrating, sometimes, when through the brain-made fog there shines the light of unbiased self-inspection and I see what I'm doing. I see the pointless anger, I see the irrational grief, I see the illogically-magnified fear...and I grow completely disgusted with myself. Oh! This in turn, I think, brings on more of these nonsensical emotions -- and then the entire psychological situation turns cyclical. Snake eating its own tail, yes? Oh...I'm Ouroboros. I am!
How much sense this all makes! And so suddenly!
This is what undoubtedly colored my weekend. This cerebral, intangible morass of terrifyingly unidentifiable origins. I shouldn't have flung the cursory remarks that I wielded like stones this weekend. I shouldn't have ignored you for so long, though the books were wonderful. I shouldn't have gotten so mad over a situation that wasn't worth much in the way of anger. I shouldn't have done so many things! Oh, I was absolutely terrible for nearly three days; I was nowhere near approachable...nowhere near civil to those I love most. How completely beastly of me. How sickening I am.
In the most quavering and heart-breaking of voices: "Let all the hurt inside of you die."
There are more things to impart, more indelible marks of comfort and glittering slices of security and brilliant fragments of happiness that I experienced this weekend...but I suppose that should wait. A warm room lit by yellow light while wind whistles and house shakes and psyche-barriers break reminds me that I have amends to make and love to assure.
posted by Ophelia at 8:03 PM
1 Comments:
“I see the pointless anger, I see the irrational grief, I see the illogically-magnified fear...and I grow completely disgusted with myself”
These words could also come from my mouth. I have the same blow-it-out-of-proportion deamon living in me (as I am sure you know by now). I find the best way to fight it is…don’t listen. If you think your fear illogical and groundless, then do what your fear tells you not to even if your stomic is in knots.
And of cours, when it comes to two meat bags intreacting, communiction is key. Talk over the things that piss you off with the people that piss you off.
These are the things I find helpful.
Good luck Angels.
Charly singthing off.
Matt.
ps sorry for misspellings. Word was acting up.
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