Refraction.

Mind.

My mind wanders no matter what I do;
It will not comply, nor will it settle for anything other
Than what it desires.
I suppose I cannot blame it:
I wouldn't want to stay here either, but it's too cold to wander.
Turning numb, neither remembering nor forgetting,
I can do little more than hope it returns,
For this body needs to rest.
Even if it did not, I don't believe it would be of much use -
The mind can go to places where the flesh cannot follow.
It is easier to take solace in miserable little half-truths,
Such as telling myself that I'm processing these feelings...
Perhaps I am, but it seems as though I will never stop:
The darkness continues to fester, pushing up against the void
Left by loss, the fragments of a shattered heart, the shell
Of who I had once pretended to be.
It is not easy to pretend, nor is it easy to stop.
Alas, if I had never pretended to fit in, there are so many things
That I'd have lost -
The friends, the opportunities, the academic achievement, the freedom...
I don't know whether it was worth losing myself and my mind,
But I was taught to pretend before I learned to walk.
The fault is not mine, and yet
I feel responsible as I watch my mind wander.
It hasn't come back in a while; starting to look like a vagabond,
With dirty clothes and mistrustful eyes.
Still, I reach out for it - both the problem and solution,
The thing that tears me apart and yet grants me the traits
That others perceive as so wonderful and valuable.
I don't know how to feel unless I'm feeling nothing,
And that is the sad truth of it all.
I've spent so long trying, to no avail...
Alexithymia still reigns supreme,
And my mind will not return to me.