I feel
I feel out of body
It's April first
It feels like I should be somewhere else
Is this a joke?
That was sort of a joke
I know where I should be, who else I should be
But I'm not
I'm here not there
I'm me not her
I can see it
A small library in the corner of the room, a comfy looking chair and something that plays music with a nice rug to top it all off
A couch with a blanket laid neatly on the side, the side table housing a cup of something warm and comforting along with some sensory fabrics and an educational book on botany or biology or some matter
A bed, messy covers, a basket with more blankets in it at the end of the bed. It's a soft brown color, like chocolate, and the sheets are red with some light decor in another shade of red on them
A bathroom with a walk in shower, smooth stones on the floor that make it feel natural, and a tropical plant hiding out somewhere where it can get as much water as it needs
An office with a little table-like-stool housing paints seated next to an easel with something abstract and incomplete on it; the paints have all dried but there's a cup of water nearby, the cup splotched in paint but the water clear as the sky that day
Talking about it brings me back
Is that good or bad?
It brings me here
To my bed
Blue sheets, not red
White wood poorly painted on, damaged with scuffs and dents, not a soft chocolate brown with strong designs etched in
No extra blanks
No plants in the shower
No paint room filled with colors of past projects
No sensory fabrics or comfortably hot drink
No mini library
No silence
The place was quiet
Homey
Maybe a wind chime? Maybe a breeze on the trees?
Maybe birds chirping or water running delicately down some intricate foundation in the overgrown backyard
I should get that trimmed
What am I thinking
Why am I thinking- wondering- planning it
Who and where am I or should I be?
I have these thoughts
If maybe another me somewhere else
On a different place
A world
One where I'm happy and free
I want to cry thinking of it, a lumps found home deep in my throat
I don't like those words
Happiness
Freedom
They choke me, remind me of something I can't have
I say "one day"
But how many has it been? More than one that's for sure
And here I am
Neither of those words
I do know one things better than the other
Happiness
The word itself doesn't work for me, it doesn't like me
But I know how it feels
This feeling who shan't be named
I've felt it many times with him
Sometimes im alone and I tell myself I've found it
I have not
I never do
Never will
Not alone
Maybe with him
But not alone
I want to be with him so much more often
But then there's the other night
I said things I thought
A scary concept to me
I hate speaking my thoughts
What if's flood my brain
What if im wrong
What if im bad
What if im toxic
What if he hates me
What if he leaves me
What if I hurt him
What if I hurt me
What if this was all for nothing
What if all that strife was meaningless and we never think about it again
If I bring it up what would happen
Would I hurt him?
Would I open old wounds?
Would be become annoyed because he hadn't forgotten?
I don't understand
I want him to be happy
I want him to love me
I want him to understand me
I want to be healed
Stroked and told im alright
Told there's nothing to fear
But loneliness is persistant
It perdues even whilst you aren't alone
Being alone and lonely are so different and this is evidence of that
Sometimes I am grasped
Taken and pulled along by chains
They choke me
They burn my skin
They rip at the flesh
And if I struggle the nails within the binds dig deeper into my skin and get drug about
I can feel it
Under my skin
I know if I move I'll feel all of it
Not just the pain, but more. The sensation.
So why do I do this
Why do I grab at the chains
Who is tugging me
A feeling
A thought
They trade turns with me
Abusing my body and soul and mind
Stabbing what's already on the ground
I want to rest
Shit my eyes and collapse
But resistance hurts
So why do I fight
Who is tugging me
The what ifs
What if I'm worthless
What if I'm a waste
What if I'm clingy
What if I'm annoying
I've been told I'm these things before
Sometimes I feel as if I can control myself
Sometimes I think
"I'm smart
I know what's happening, ergo I can stop it
I'm just faking it
Faking for attention"
But then why are these like intrusive thoughts
And if I'm so capable of getting rid of them then why can't I
Why can't I do this
Why can't I
Who is laughing
I can hear them
Like watching a football game
Laughter and oohs and aahs
It's far away
Like just outside the house or on the other side of it from me
Sounds like dad
Another intrusive thought
"What if
He is awake and laughing
What if he is killing your mom
What if he is coming for you next
When is the last time you stopped typing
When last did you check the crack in the door"
But I know already what will be there
I can sense it
I will look up
At the crack
And I will see what's not there
I will see eyes
A face
A smiling one shrouded in the depths of darkness
Swallowed by the shadows it swells in
And I hate it
The wide smile stretching from eye to eye
Said eyes being wide as saucers
I hate it
I don't want to see it
Won't someone save me
I don't want to be alone
Why
Why can I imagine it so clearly
Why do I know what my father looks like once he is lost
Distract
Distract
Distract
Type something
Anything
Find something to type
Type
Type
Typaty type
Tip tap
Tippity tappity
Write
Wrote
Writhe
Rose
Risen
Rised
Riser
Risen
Is it gone yet
No
It's
Under her bed
The head peeking out from under her bed
So pale
Flesh
Staring at me
I don't want to look directly at it to see what it really is
I hate my sight
I need classes but never wear them
It's fleshy that's all I can tell
I'm exceptional at telling colors apart despite it all
It all being my other ailments
Let me explain
I cannot see in the dark like [my partner] on command, it only happens when I'm afraid, but sometimes fear shrouds my vision anyway
I cannot see distances
My mind jumbles letters and words so I cannot read
Ailments all the same
Yet I can see colors so well
Every pixel of a difference on a chart is there
I don't know if this makes me special
I wish I were ignorant to this
Seeing mismatching colors is horrid
I wish I lived in ignorance
But then what kind of an artist would that make me?
The face isn't a face it's a toy
Fuck her toys
More creaks in the walls
When people say they want to live in an old house I bet they never imagine mine
The creaks are beginnings to sound like thunder
Oh
It's a plane
I need to sleep but what will I see in the night
Who will be there
Who'd dare
There goes my sleep schedule
2:28 into April first
I feel better now
Less disconnected
Less scared
But what if I'm only less so because my drowsiness is hiding what I should be truly feeling
At this point
I can't fear my fingers very well
So I don't care
Perhaps it's the incessant typing that's made them go numb
Who knows
But they feel stiff and hot and numb
So I'll stop now I suppose
I hope this was good
A good read
Entertaining
Revealing perhaps
Who knows
It's April first
I wish this were a joke
It's April first
April first
The first
First of many?
Many of any of that would be bad I imagine
But look at me
Typing away again.
I need to stop but this company is...
It's good
It fills what's missing
The empty space in bed beside me
I talk as if my husband has gone to war
Maybe he has
He has
I'm sure of it
It's a brutal one
And I'm a woman in the 1960's or something
Waiting for him
A out of depth crawling- clawing it's way down
Through the bed
Into the earth
I should sleep
I keep saying but not doing
Maybe I'm bored
Probably not
I'm too tired
Maybe I'm lonely
Probably not
I have yet to feel the sensations of strings tugging at my veins as if to pull them out of my very body
Who knows then
Those were my only ideas
Either way
This is it
Putting it down
Right
Now
Nnow
Now.
