everything today feels like it takes herculean effort.
there is no pleasing me. don’t bother. don’t peak at me with that face you make to see if i’ll respond. I won’t. instead you’ll see my face contort to reveal the fury beneath my scarlet skin. just let me be. become helpfully invisible while I contemplate and decide. move feelings around to see what the image looks like. what I want. who I am. who i am becoming.
is it that our true selves emerge having always been there or that we become other versions of the self we started off as? as long as I’ve had thoughts I’ve yearned for an answer to that.
the pulse of rage pounds my migraine. harder. harder. harder. still. but it’s not the pain killer I want. it’s the joy I’m after. the elusive feeling of warmth in my chest that has abandoned me and I don’t know why.
it’s the stillness I’m after. the calm of quiet solitude that brings me revelations.