Opposing emotions are fighting in me.
I’m trying to become a better version of me, to take my world and reverse everything I know, for you, for me, but I wish it weren’t too late.
Now I am the one biting my tongue, wanting to tell you I love you.
I keep forgetting that feeling feelings is optional
I’m sorry dear, I’ve been selfish: it’s hard to see clearly when I’m stuck in a fog of my own sadness.
I don’t often get to hold something so delicate and beautiful, I need to be more gentle with you.
And I think I know what I want:
Expansion of my mind; experience; understanding and knowledge; the ability to see the world as it truly is, but to still relish in its beautiful things.
but the more you realize how much you have, the more you realize how much you have to lose
Who are you, beneath all the layers of your superficial surface? If you were not anxious most of the time, who would you be? If you were not lonely most of the time, what kind of person would you be? Do you care about animals and writing and music and friends and travel? Are you someone who gets introspective in coffee shops? Is that who you are? Is who you are defined by your age, race, gender? Are you just an accident produced by this particular universe in this particular era in time? Are you nothing at all?
There are billions and trillions of thoughts bumping around in your brain everyday
Thousands of neurons are firing, creating a constant stream of feelings and emotions and consciousness;
You focus on only a few of these little connections,
Replaying them over and over, letting them fire again and again
Listening to their destructive messages, trusting what they’re telling you,
Believing these little bolts of electricity that are traveling in your head, unraveling your head.
Think of how many neurons sit idle in your brain that haven’t been fired in a long time,
Because you keep going over and over the ones that tell you everything is shit.
Think of what you could know, analyze, and discover
If only you could push out the anxiety and halt the damaging cycle
To make room for the important unknown.
Quiet souls do not always want to be amplified.
Try to listen before trying to pry us out
Where we rest comfortably in our own stillness.
I am holding my breath but never releasing it.
Unwillingly bound to my own tragic chronicles,
I just need the chemicals in my brain to leave me alone.
But if the bad is cut out, the good also goes.
So leave me numb, and let me drift.
I hope I can abandon this selfish, deprecating mind
And rearrange my chronicles
To mold a mind that ignores me altogether.