2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43
Yes or no?
Where is the line of my feelings of despair? How can I recognize and feel that everything is over, finish, I crossed the line and no longer suffer from a lack of love that can transform my despair into my usual agitated anxiety state.
Feelings. From them both. Sometimes I am not aware of my feelings, hidden in affect, under a thick veil of memories that bring painful depression and the inability to do anything. And I am carried and carried, and of course I am sure that I know where, and I still choke on the wave hitting my face. Affects rush out of me when I don’t know what to do with my feelings, when they don’t know what to do with me, when we, you and I, pretend that we are you and me. And neither the coast nor the horizon is visible, the continuous surface of the ocean, everything is flooded, the unconscious has burst out and now I am in it, and not it in me.
Where is this edge, where is this line that separates me from you, how can you see it next to you, it may be just to pull the thread on the clothes, it's not for nothing that there are so many threads in it. Maybe it was Oreoadna who braided me with saving threads leading from the labyrinth, and I just weaved fabric out of them and now I walk in the labyrinth, slightly fashionable, but just as lost. And no matter how much you draw this line, it will not appear and will not show me clearly the features of my split in my psyche, and why. Calm down? Honestly, I'm afraid of peace, I'm afraid that it won't last forever, that's how I can't balance my opposites. But these are the scales of life.
You receive messages, pass them through yourself, decipher and see nothing there for yourself, everything is only about you. So what? And what about me? My distorted vision, clouded by the inflammation of the soul, everything is as if in a fog, everything is as in a dream, unreal, sluggish, absurd, all around there are symbols of the unconscious and I, the real me in a cycle of human passions, alien to me, complex. Affects trumpet the war bugle, I reluctantly crawl out of my cradle and begin to stretch, a little anger, a little envy, and then sheer despair. I don't have the strength to hold the gun at your head, I lower it and go to lie under a tree, and I would fall asleep, sound asleep, for a long time, so that when I wake up, I do not see anything that would remind me of me. My memories hurt me with their quivering warmth. It can't be that this shit has so much sacred meaning to me. I just can't believe it.
Where are you, the border of feelings? Apparently the dynamic change of states is not about me, as well as the bucking on the razor blade. Apparently a very sharp razor. This is / no duality makes me angry, I do not feel free next to it, being in my polar state. So yes or no? Is there still love or is it no longer there? It seems to me that in no, there is a part of yes, one inevitably contains the other and is mixed in different proportions.
Brad, I just can't admit that I love, I just love.
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