Atmospheric Disposition

The fabric of my reality keeps splitting and sewing itself back together- never really the same each time it comes apart. Or maybe in my head it feels just ever so slightly different. Progress is a fickle thing. Does it work itself out in the end, though? I guess if it’s the end, it doesn’t really matter anyway.

Life is ever-changing, and sometimes I think I’m missing it right before my eyes. Living in the present is so hard for me, I’m always fleeing from something- whether it’s in my mind or in the physical world. A defense mechanism I learned from a troubled childhood? Obviously. I didn’t really notice it at first until it was pointed out. It really is hard trying to mend these broken behaviors. It takes so much time, effort, and devotion to really bettering yourself. Not to say I haven’t bettered myself in the last few years. I certainly feel like I’ve made some sort of progress. And yet, that little thing I do (fleeing from any potential threat of danger), is my only salvation to keep myself safe.

God, Amy. Snap out of it already. Why have you drifted away?

I’m sitting here and I’m vanishing right before my very eyes. Auto-pilot has taken over. How am I typing this out? This isn’t me typing it. Who are you? Where did you come from and how did you get inside my head? Have you become me? There it goes, my reality being torn up by some imaginary ghost that I somehow created. That’s all we are really, right? Ghosts? We’re just dead people walking around. We’re going to be dead for a lot longer than we are alive. Maybe the deadness in me comes forth than most of the people around me. The dead girl in me is the defense mechanism. That’s where I go, and that’s where I hide.

I feel and I don’t feel, and then I feel again, and then I’m dead. The cycle repeats over and over.

Wake up, you idiot. There’s still so much to do. You’re running out of time.

I’m constantly looking for myself, trying to grab my own hand and yank me back into the present. Where did my anchor go? Did I ever really have one? I’m floating away and watching my own life shrink, seeing all the people get smaller as I float on into the atmosphere. It’s quiet and cold up here, and the uncertainty is suffocating me. The confusion and mental fog settle in the cracks in my mind and I’m left with nothing.

I’m running out of this thing we call time, and I’m trying to listen closely to what this life is telling me. My ears are rejecting these words and phrases. The mental fog is blocking it like an army protecting its land. My eyes glaze over and I fade away.

How do I let go of something I never had? How do I lay down the dreams I have because the fear is just too much to bear? I’m fading away into oblivion anyway, what matters anymore?

I’m at war with the demons in my head, they’re currently winning as I’m drowning in the dark. I’m fighting but losing the battle. There is no relief in sight.

I can’t explain this clearly. Not enough to make a normal person understand. You have to live in this to know what I mean. And unfortunately that just isn’t possible. Suffering in silence is something I’ve come to accept. It doesn’t make the burning gaping hole in my chest hurts any less. It hurts just as much as the first time it ever came to me.

I sit here, staring at the wall into another dimension- tears slipping out of my eyes, drowning out the present. What ever is left of the present “me” is trying desperately to pull me back into the present reality. Now is not the time to fade away. Please Amy, come back to earth.

But I don’t. I don’t hear or feel a goddamn thing.

My ghost is gone. Lifeless and emotionless- you’ve gone away. The world will carry on, never understanding why. I’m not fazed. This is what I call home. This is the bitter cold steel I taste. I didn’t ask for such a thing, but it found me and has chained me.

I wish you could all see.
I wish you could all feel my fabric of reality breaking apart before my very eyes.

You all never will.




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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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