It's Something Unpredictable... Well Not REALLY.

1.
I'm sitting here listening to the likes of the Goo Goo Dolls and Aerosmith filled with these forces. These things commanding to be satiated. What are they? How do I interpret things I indirectly confront? The various types of energy swirling in SO many different directions, how do I even begin to work them out? Avoid. The more I avoid the more these essences become brilliant in such obtrusive ways they become unavoidable. Sit and embrace. It will be over soon.

2.
Feelings. Emotions. Anger, pain, fear, resentment, love, lust, all of these and more coursing through my veins searching for an answer or at least a temporary resolve. But it seems that these things find no recourse when dealing with MY veins. They are just continuously searching without any solid confirmation of solution. The many compartments, the drawers, folders, cabinets, boxes. They are abounding with unresolved, barely consumed moments. Instances where the feelings were visceral, where the memories are tangible. Times I simply can't seem to face in their intensity. I begin to see a pattern. I must escape.

3.
Discomfort ensnares me in all directions now, no way out. What do I do in this moment of discontent? The track changes to a familiar Yellowcard song, I can disengage. Breathing just like the title of the song. The problem I now face is the fact that once this song is over, the brilliance will return. What to do with these unfinished moments? All I do is place bandaids on the wounds and keep it moving. Let me fix the symptoms, it has worked my entire life thus far. The idea of managing the scars of the past and present is almost impossible to accept.

4.
To go inside my own messed up, bloody, and debilitated mind with a broom and dust pan makes me feel unprepared. I'm ready for light dusting when I arrive to a nightmare realized through the hands of time. Feelings of powerlessness and fear overwhelm and provoke me to place the bandaids on the wounds. "It'll heal. It'll heal," knowing all too well the consequence.

5. 
What is the point of all of this? Is it yet another failed attempt at something real? Finally a tangible way to document these forces that demand attention?
Pain
Sorrow
Longing
Resentment
Disgust
Anger
6.
It's kind of nice, to delve into these caverns inside my mind. These compartments I've not seen in years. Reminds me of all of the moments that didn't mark me. All the instances that could've ruined my life that instead allowed for my growth and development in many different aspects. I also feel safe with my semi-emotionally provoking music on and my laptop at hand. I am not alone.

7. 
So many silences in my heart. So many quiet plees for resignation that were left unrequited. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention as I stand in front of one of the most recently acquired compartments. How to open something that is gorged to the point of erupting at the most delicate of touches? No. This wound will not be able to be given a bandaid. I will have to face it directly. Absolutely.

     "My lips trembled. Stiffen even more, sink to the bottom, drown myself in the depths of loneliness         and the night. Or try to catch this outstretched hand." -Simone de Beauvoir

I am drawn to this quote as it relates to my most recent compartment. Sometimes I feel as though Simone was writing to me. I wish I was able to actually know her, though I feel like I do through her writings. What to do when you know you have to make life-altering decisions? I guess I will know what I will have to do when the time comes. I see a bandaid wrapper falling to the ground next to the box. Compulsory behavior kicked in. I am okay with this, for now. I will end with this:

     "[What a] dreadful anomaly... the anger that is born of love and that murders love." -Simone de Beauvoir

Here's Hoping & Thanks for Reading.