Even when the path I walk upon is exactly what I’ve been searching for; one which can open into a wide road filled with signs leading the way, I still find a reason to stop dead in my tracks. I am somehow attracted to trails surrounded by quick sand and land mines. They never end up killing me, just leave a few wounds that can make a person squint in disgust.
Even if the rough soles of my converse step onto a path of soft silk with fields of open space and hazy pink skies, nothing will seem real. I end up looking around and around; over the hills and under rocks, sometimes forcefully stubbing myself on the pines of an evergreen as an excuse to run the other way. Maybe rip out the begonias to dissect their roots for something, anything to make me think this is too good to be true.
And as I play the world’s worst treasure hunt, I find myself lost again. I end up straying too far from the path and lose my sense of direction. Lonely, lost and looking for a new path. One of decency and comfort, but nothing better than what I think I deserve.
The only problem is,
Being lost is starting to feel more comforting than following a path.
Sitting in the corners of my mind
The eerie crevices where the sunlight never shines
Its difficult to close my eyes
because before I die
I want to know who’s been watching me every night before I go to sleep
With his torture of silence and sinister shadows passing through the only street lamp that lights the back wall of my room.
Waking up with black bags reminding me of the black shadows
The ones that cut corners of my rationality
Leaps over my sanity
And fights off the comfort of reality
If i open and close my eyes three times
And nothing is there, I’ll be fine
Okay maybe three more times,
One more time and I will fall asleep.
This is crazy, I am crazy
Why can’t I take a breathE
Once the light goes out in my bedroom
So does the one in my mind
What time is it?
Three, the devils hour
I feel myself heating up, perspiration forming
I need to stay awake until four, just in case.
I know it’s just a myth..
But just in case.
I’m aware none of this is true
Aware the tremble in my knees is just my imagination smirking at me
Maybe I need pills
Or another puff
This piece of work, the way you read it and it’s format is the workings of my mind under anxiety. It jumps from solution to conclusion to problem to nonsense to explanation all moulded by my irrationality and fear. The only way to understand, is to experience. There is no order, no silence, no moment of peace, no continuity, no control in my thought process when anxiety hits in the solitude of the night. No matter how physically comfortable I may be, there’s an ache of discomfort pulsing in my mind and in my chest, it gets louder and more powerful the deeper I explore. There is no reading over the above post to correct my punctuation or grammar, just as I would never contemplate and rationalize my thoughts and anxieties. I even had to look behind my computer screen as I wrote this, JUST IN CASE. It is nothing but fear, fear of the unknown, a fear that relies solely on the lack of understanding the questions that stay unanswered. Well that’s personally my interpretation of my own anxieties, but again, I am far from understanding the inner workings of my mind. It is crazy what our minds can convince us of.