Why does life feel like it moves in slow motion, and yet it also feels like the clock is fleeting? Why do I feel like everything I want is out of reach? I touch the air as if what I crave is right in front of me, but it twists into smoke when I almost make contact.
Why do I feel so much?
My lens is broken. I’m trying hard to recall when it cracked. I look around my world now and I wonder if it’s as it should be. Am I trying with all I have to repair the broken glass that lies in front of my eyes? Am I really seeing all there is? Have I blinded myself in vain?
The memories flip through my mind like frayed pages in a dusty book that’s been shelved for far too long.
The colors of my emotions spin around the intricate color wheel. What will I feel today? What color will be splatted across my face? But I turn a certain direction and with my cracked lens in view, the color changes. Like night and day, it all changes so fast. As if I’m spinning around the globe at light speed. I just want to hold onto something stable. I want to soak in one color for just a little bit longer.
I don’t mean to complicate things. I don’t mean to confuse those who listen. But what I’m trying to say just simply doesn’t make sense, so I’ve come to realize long ago. But I try to find some clarity in my words when I can. I try to make it clear to those who choose to listen… but half the time it doesn’t all make sense to me either. I have so many thoughts fleeting through my head, and eventually it all comes crashing down and suffocates me. I stare off blankly and I see nothing. The lens shatters. Tears begin to trickle past the jagged shards in my eyes.
I blindly look the other way when it becomes too much. Too much in the sense that I can hardly process the meaning. The words don’t make sense. The view isn’t clear. My lens is shattered- how could I really see anyway? For as long as the broken glass remains, my judgment is naturally clouded. Are the thoughts I think truly valid? Are my emotions something to be considered and taken seriously? I don’t know. My mind has led me to believe that they aren’t. Surely the people around me know better, they can see clearly. They know what’s right and what’s wrong. Perhaps everything in my field of vision is wrong, and all the choices I’ve made have led me to a dead end. I’ve somehow envisioned a wall before me; all the thoughts have come to a halt and my emotions have turned to stone. My heart can’t cope. It’s telling me to stop.
What am I not seeing? Is this reality not real? I have all these dreams to conquer and love to give. I have so much that it overflows the chambers of my heart and bursts through my chest. But I can shut those chambers just as fast when I feel too vulnerable. I go into panic mode and I turn away, and that’s when the dead-end wall appears. In those moments, my own heart is my prison. It turns back, and is cold as stone.
I’ve been trying to replace the lens I see through. It keeps cracking and shattering over and over. It seems I haven’t mastered the art of glassblowing. The stained glass breaks so easily. And even when they are blown to pieces and fall away slowly, the colors are still so beautiful. I watch every part of me fall away into the darkness once again.
Where do I go to repair these shards of me?
The dead-end beckons me into the shadows.
But I’m too blind to really know.
But I’m not too blind to see the damage that has been done.
I loathe all I’ve become.