Out of Gravity

I want to write. 

What do I want to write? 

What do I have to say? 

What can I even say? 

Which words do I bring together to make any sense? 

Can I even make sense? 

What is sense? 

There’s this first step. A little thing that will set other things in motion. My brain already is, the billion possibilities playing out in my head. But you are not. I am not. We are not. I’ve run out of cigarettes, this is my second from last cigarette, my legs won’t stop moving, I can’t stop spazzing them, my body feels tired, my soul is crushed beneath the rage. My steps are not steps. Toes testing the waters, that’s what it is. Sudden rushes of euphoria. Fade out. I’m inside me and I can barely fit in. Any moment I will burst out of my own skin and world, walls, everything will tumble. Is there anyone out there, can anybody hear me? No, of course they can’t… because I never say anything out loud. It’s almost midnight. The sky is loaded with rain. Do you ever wonder if rain is just collective tears of caged minds or is it too overdramatic? Or is it just non-sense? Again, what is sense? 

The rage. Seething inside. Maybe I’ve known it all along. Maybe I just needed someone to tell me or, better yet, to force me to admit it to myself because that’s what I always do right? I know things, I’m old enough for that, but I never admit… I don’t because fuck you, that’s why. No, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I guess what I attempted to say… I don’t even know. It’s all over me, the rage is everywhere, you can see it from a thousand miles away. But I am as always compliant and docile. I’m gentle. It’s all on the surface. Nothing gets into me, nothing comes out of me. Keep everything within, don’t let anyone in. Give everyone the smiles but keep them away. Because I know it, I so know how it feels to be disappointed, so no thanks, I do not want it all over again. Be passive-aggressive. Hurt them but don’t hurt them. Let them taste the rage, only infinitesimally. Don’t let it all go, don’t, don’t, don’t. Because, in the end, even the fake sense of joy is better than being all alone. Flash a smile, give a nod, pretend to understand.

Fight myself. Every moment, every instance, every breath. Accept it all, a moment of acceptance, angst the next. Keep thinking. Keep the possibilities alive. If the possibilities are alive, so am I. Reality isn't better than possibilities. Let go, let go, let go, let go. Battles going on day and night. Conscious and subconscious. The rage grows, soul gets cornered, skin gets tighter. I am going to explode. Keep the explosion at bay. It would certainly help, clean slate and all, but I fear the aftermath, the unknown. Keep what I can have at bay… maybe. I hear you, dude, I do, but then again, it will take a while for that to sink in. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. This is just a game, isn’t it though? 

Then there’s the attempts at tackling down the obstacles, the icebergs. Looking for the tiniest chance. Run away? Mmmmm, I guess, I don’t know. Always the tough questions. No worries, it’s nothing I wouldn’t end up asking myself after a while. Looking for chances, right, and trying things that would lead to chances while not requiring too much effort although Europeans would beg to differ. Searching for knowledge to create new dynamics. Barely making any progress. Search, fight, and disappear. The cycle. Zero distance covered, zero distance left. Vertigo. 

It does hurt me though, I will admit that. In ways I can’t even put to words. Comes and goes, the feelings, sometimes in the supermarket, or I don’t know, on my way to work. A tiny fraction of a second of incapacitating pain, like a kick in the balls, if that analogy helps. But so easy to brush off. So easy to not dwell on. ’Cause I wonder if I’m wasting the very precious time I’ve got… with nothing. I wonder if every second that ticks away with a tock takes you and me another eternity apart. I shy away from everything just in case the spark gets brighter, I can not tolerate it anymore while it’s all going to waste. Wastelands within, oh I should’ve guessed. Never ignore coincidences. Never ignore the timelines. Things happen for a reason. It’s the way it is. Time. Space. Life. It’s loud, bright and fucking beautiful. But it’s so damn sad. Airplanes, waterfalls, trains, all in my head. Neverlasting is better. It was never supposed to last, and it never did. Sad, sad stories of silly little moments played out in strings and hearts. Deep down inside. Strings pulled, dreams crushed, life goes on. Nothing really matters. I’m not sure why the tears still come. My heart hurts. More than you could ever hope to guess.

"I will act. I will act despite and against my fears.” she made me say.

But I can’t do it without you.

Ssssh. 

Ssssh. 

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Not quite. 

Yet.

I don’t want to write. 

#darktranquillity