Empty Thoughts Of Madness

Highly Strung

I've noticed that over the years I've become a ticking time bomb waiting for the fuse to blow and these years of staying calm and portraying a mannerism of extroverted perfected calm can only last so long, and one day I'll blow and fragments of all my hurt will flood out of me like a tidal wave. I've noticed my moods fluctuating like the sea beneath a storm cloud and the perfect stillness just before the white horses come galloping recklessly into the bay and stampede the shoreline with their fast relentless pounds of their hooves and frothing mouths- insane and without conscious thought, just intent on creating chaos inside my mind and on my body. Over the past few months and years I've somehow allowed myself to hit rock bottom consistently, but somehow always managed to scramble up out of that well with slippery sides and make it back up to the top, but never unscathed- I only think that the attention seekers of the world who fake depression for attention, come out of it as clean as a whistle and as though they never just passed through hell and came back bleeding. I find the episodes emotional and they make me raw with hurt and uncertainty and posed with so many questions about life, my relationships with all of the people around me and about essentially who I am, and I know that I find it difficult to keep all of that anger and hurt suppressed inside my small and worrisome mind. It therefore all comes out like angry suspicious gnats riding on the airwaves of my emotions and devastates the harvest of my security net and my love which I have so carefully and beautifully nurtured over the years, and as a result the only person that I ever end up hating is myself.

I've noticed that during my bouts of "sickness" I would be plagued with all sorts of invasive thoughts and negative feedback that the suicidal part of my mind unconsciously sent out to the rest of my body and that these would be intrinsically impactful and microcosmically damaging. I begin to allow my frontal lobes which control my "death" thoughts presidency over my limbic system, and I start to sadistically, masochistically and egotistically wonder what would happen if I just lost myself in the shadows and death of the world, and who or what would miss me. I've contemplated the elation of throwing myself off of a cliff and the horror of spearing myself onto the rocks below, what would happen if my car swerved into a person driving on the opposite carriageway with the knowledge that it was of my own volition, what it would feel like to leap into Death's ever present and waiting arms in some of the most horrific and deranged ways and what would happen in the aftermath, which no man or woman on earth really knows but consistently fears. The thoughts are fleeting and take me by surprise, but sometimes I find the three halves to my brain fighting for victory, and thankfully my rational brain usually wins. In reality though, I mean nothing to the world in all of its beautiful and effortless glory, and the extinguishing of my soul's flame would not even cause a slight ripple in the chain of being and the whole world would not stop to think about its loss. It would still rotate in its axis, unmoved and unhalted in rotation, the seasons would still change from the burning suns of the desert to the wintry tundra's, and to think I would cause anything would just be nonsensical fantasy. I am nothing and nobody just like everybody within the moving hands of Time, which holds no prisoners and shows no love or regrets.  

It instantly damages my good mood and my outlook towards the world, and suspends my usual logical and rational mind into a dark pit of disarray and confusion. I find myself staring more at myself in the mirror in a distorted way of narcissism, just so that I can abuse the scared and fragile person who looks back at me with empty, sad eyes and tell her what a worthless piece of shit she is and that in essence she deserves every piece of hurt that she receives from this world and from my own self. I shred all of my emotions of love, security and happiness and leave myself an empty shell of flesh which covets the feelings of worthlessness, jealousy and insecurity, and I begin to deeply analyse every person's looks and words as a way of them telling me that they want better in life, and that that better does not include me. I find myself walking on eggshells, scared that my tongue will run off with me and I will create a ruckus for no other reason than to vocalise some of the hurt breeding inside of me, but regardless of every effort at suppressing all of that collateral damage I find that it acts as a separate entity to myself and escapes anyway. I feel it blossoming inside my brain like a wild, rare flower, strangling the memories of happiness and love which I have so lovingly kept suspended on spider webs and preserved in formaldehyde inside my headspace, for rainy days when I let the Light in to burst them into a synaesthesia like stained glass windows allowing a spectrum of colours to alight upon the cold flagstones of the Church. I am left hanging from a noose wondering when my neck will snap and hoping and praying that it is only a matter of time before I open my eyes and I can say that it was only a passing phase and a nightmare.

The only thought that I have when I am fully consumed with this inner monstrosity of my personality is, "Am I better off alone?" because what person in my life deserves to be loved by a person who cannot even love themselves?