this love, this life....
09/09/2003 05:52 a.m.
i am so afraid of what i feel, i am so afraid to even feel at all. all my life i have been proud of my apathy, waving it above me like a banner. look at me-you can't hurt me, i don't care. hurt requires me to have put myself out there, loving you, feeling you. and i wouldn't do it, i didn't want to get hurt again. but this time it is differnt. my heard burns and chars and i must open myself to the feeling or i will be burned alive. i am afraid to be other there, afraid of what i will find. i feel the fear ringing clearly in my ears each time someone says to me "who are you? you are SMILING? are you on drugs?"...the list continues. what price will i pay to actually feel love inside my heart and soul? will i be forced to also feel the pain of a goodbye? i am sure. i am so used to pushing my feelings down, below the surface where no one can see them, where they cannot be reached. but suddenly with my magicalartist, i WANT to feel, i WANT to know him, i will risk being hurt for him. i want him to envolope my soul, carry me into the clouds where lovers reign. i would give my life to experience love the way others describe it-magical and wonderful and the source of life. because i know that there is more to me. if this is who i am in all of my apathy, who could i be without it? am i living a lie? are there parts of me that lay dorment, parts of me that remain untapped? are they the reason for my sadness? are they the reason my head spins and my thoughts spiral around inside my head. like papers, blowing in a tornado and houses in a hurricane i am unable to stop the force with which my thoughts are scattered. i am only able to wait them out, hold on for dear life, and hope that in the end i have time to pick up what is left inside me, what hasn't poured out of my fingers, my mouth, and my eyes. the remnents of who i am, the reminder that i am still alive, that i have yet to leave this human cage for a rebirth into it, continuing on until i have learned the lessons i do not yet know, until i am able to fly away from this torture and live in peace the rest of my days. or is there anything after this? i cannot imagine these thoughts ever stopping...not in life, not in death. perhaps that is the answer, that these thoughts will cease to be in death. that no one will know or understand the thoughts inside my head once i am dead. if i do not remove them, put them down on paper, they will be forgotten, i will be forgotten. and my questions will remain unanswered as my body and brain become one with the ground that they came from. but is the mind a part of the brain? or are they separate, and when the body and brain fail, the mind flies off to find another place in which to reside? perhaps i am a combination of former minds who flew here and cannot seem to agree on one topic, therefore the broken conversations that i have with the strange voices in my head make sense. they call to me, mock me, both love and hate me. they are never ceasing, and always causing trouble. but what would life be if my head were silent? i could not deal with it quiet. i used to wish to be dumb, in reality i wished for nothing at all, for without my mind i am mearly a shell walking like the other mindless clones from place to place, caring only for the physical things in life, counting my money and thinking of my wants and possessions. and i would never want to live life in such a self-centered universe. part of me wants to delete this spastic journal, but part of me loves to read what i have to write about when my brain opens up at 2 AM and the words pour from my wounds, because by 9 AM the scabs have formed where the blood once flowed and the words abandon me for the day...
I am currently Unsure
I am listening to the tornado ripping through my brain