I feel like I'm dying.
I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac so me saying something this extreme means it's probably true, to some extent, although obviously/hopefully I am not dying.
My throat feels as if there were a million nanobots habiting that region, that all of a sudden said, "HEY LET'S STAB HER THROAT WITH OUR STABBY PARTS". So they did.
My brain feels like they turned the fuzzy on. Like it's covered in fuzzy socks and it's all rubbing up against my skull. The lights are soooo bright I can see them in such detail, they're like if Jesus was a light - well He wouldn't be fluorescent because it hurts my brain to look at them but they're so shiny and accuratey and bow down to the laws of physics.
I wish I bowed down to the laws of physical morality. I mean, everybody's gotta obey physics cause that's the way it has to be. But now I'm confused and don't know rhyme or rhythm or time or meter and let it all flow down like a waterfall across my chest, cleanse my soul which has become so darkened black because of my hardheartedness, and you thought I didn't notice this?
You think I didn't know that every action has consequence? Even if it's me getting hurt, the time and tide of butterflies migrating to the south doesn't always result in reproductiveness. Sometimes someone has to be the martyr to ensure that your sister has a success, but that martyr shouldn't be me, or else I will decline myself into a pool of hopelessness.
I'm pretty happy with my life, don't get me wrong, but when it's 5 am and you're shaking so hard because the fever you somehow got again won't go away, you get scared because there is no one to call to soothe your fears away. Somehow I've never felt alone, but I have felt lonely. I know my parents love me, and God is always with me, but what I would do to feel a hand upon my hip in the midst of all that darkness, when my muscles constricting and contracting can't seem to stop the chill that is within me, and my weakness is so manifest that the bottle of pills not two feet away from me seem to be an eternity...my friends, sometimes I cave in to the idea of despair, but never despairing outright.
I have dreams of my mother and sister and our house covered in sunlight, and I become so sad because I know what I need is my mother's touch but to admit so would be a weakness, and I am not weak, or maybe I am, pathetically so. How many human beings have gone before me and after me living alone? Too many to count, to many to name, time and tide again people get lost and no one remembers their name. Is this my purpose? To toil away and remain nameless and shameless, stripped naked when drunk only to be left broken again by the sidewalk?
It seems that the universe hands me a lot of crosses, but it's nothing compared to yours, my brother, my sister. Suffering has a meaning and it's not wishful thinking that's making me believe that. I don't need a meaning attached to my lot in life, but the fact that it has one makes it not useless. How do I know this? The most illogical logical leaps anyone can ever take in their life - faith. Come try to shake it away from me. I dare you. For you see, it can't be merely a human donation because if it was human, it would have fallen a long time ago - delicate, fragile little piece of glass. I cannot hold myself up but it is the spirit of God within me that holds me up to try to crawl again, because I have been demolished so often that I've come to accept it. "Come to me, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Is it? Well I'm not holding myself up, am I?
I think my high is wearing off and apparently, spoken word bubbles out of me when I'm stoned. I'm such a hipster.
Shani
I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac so me saying something this extreme means it's probably true, to some extent, although obviously/hopefully I am not dying.
My throat feels as if there were a million nanobots habiting that region, that all of a sudden said, "HEY LET'S STAB HER THROAT WITH OUR STABBY PARTS". So they did.
My brain feels like they turned the fuzzy on. Like it's covered in fuzzy socks and it's all rubbing up against my skull. The lights are soooo bright I can see them in such detail, they're like if Jesus was a light - well He wouldn't be fluorescent because it hurts my brain to look at them but they're so shiny and accuratey and bow down to the laws of physics.
I wish I bowed down to the laws of physical morality. I mean, everybody's gotta obey physics cause that's the way it has to be. But now I'm confused and don't know rhyme or rhythm or time or meter and let it all flow down like a waterfall across my chest, cleanse my soul which has become so darkened black because of my hardheartedness, and you thought I didn't notice this?
You think I didn't know that every action has consequence? Even if it's me getting hurt, the time and tide of butterflies migrating to the south doesn't always result in reproductiveness. Sometimes someone has to be the martyr to ensure that your sister has a success, but that martyr shouldn't be me, or else I will decline myself into a pool of hopelessness.
I'm pretty happy with my life, don't get me wrong, but when it's 5 am and you're shaking so hard because the fever you somehow got again won't go away, you get scared because there is no one to call to soothe your fears away. Somehow I've never felt alone, but I have felt lonely. I know my parents love me, and God is always with me, but what I would do to feel a hand upon my hip in the midst of all that darkness, when my muscles constricting and contracting can't seem to stop the chill that is within me, and my weakness is so manifest that the bottle of pills not two feet away from me seem to be an eternity...my friends, sometimes I cave in to the idea of despair, but never despairing outright.
I have dreams of my mother and sister and our house covered in sunlight, and I become so sad because I know what I need is my mother's touch but to admit so would be a weakness, and I am not weak, or maybe I am, pathetically so. How many human beings have gone before me and after me living alone? Too many to count, to many to name, time and tide again people get lost and no one remembers their name. Is this my purpose? To toil away and remain nameless and shameless, stripped naked when drunk only to be left broken again by the sidewalk?
It seems that the universe hands me a lot of crosses, but it's nothing compared to yours, my brother, my sister. Suffering has a meaning and it's not wishful thinking that's making me believe that. I don't need a meaning attached to my lot in life, but the fact that it has one makes it not useless. How do I know this? The most illogical logical leaps anyone can ever take in their life - faith. Come try to shake it away from me. I dare you. For you see, it can't be merely a human donation because if it was human, it would have fallen a long time ago - delicate, fragile little piece of glass. I cannot hold myself up but it is the spirit of God within me that holds me up to try to crawl again, because I have been demolished so often that I've come to accept it. "Come to me, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Is it? Well I'm not holding myself up, am I?
I think my high is wearing off and apparently, spoken word bubbles out of me when I'm stoned. I'm such a hipster.
Shani
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