The prisoner

Thursday, 31 October 2013

Sometimes I have so much to say and yet no words with which to say it with so the thoughts merely ricochet around the confines of my head increasing in speed until they become a violence of mere noise.  How very apt that an abundance of thoughts can paralyse your ability to actually think.  Other times, there's more words than blood within my veins that bulge and pulse to escape yet I have nothing to say.

The mental stars have once again realigned and deemed it time for of the wheel of moods to change once more.  There is no subtle change of direction, it's a spontaneous plummet.  There's no graceful wings to glide.  I am the stone and it's falling.  I'm isolated within my own head as I habitually go through the process of withdrawing from everything and anyone as my own mind drags me to forcefully retreat.  It gets easier as the years go on, the inability to connect with others eradicates the factor of having people to notice, it thus becomes easier to float in and out of social existence.  I am the ghost that watches yet can't be seen.  I write nothing, nowhere.  I hardly speak.  Something will present itself to temporarily compel me into obsession be it a series of books or a television series.  I immerse myself within in, lying awake for hours unable to sleep until I've completed the run.  Blanking out from everyday life barley even managing to go through the motions as I become locked within whatever it is the fixation is this time.  Yet through it's grip I do not grapple, for this temporary trade of isolation and compulsion in place of the thinking, that awful relentless brutal thinking is quiet.  Ironic that the mental silence to think is when the thoughts are in hiding and thus cannot be thought.  I am the nothing, I'm not really here.

I can feel the attempts of another change bubbling beneath the surface in the random spouts of hilarity that momentarily possess me and the spontaneous urges, like randomly chopping at my hair again...just because.  If I close my eyes I can hear myself in the background spinning, waiting in the back room to be let out again. until the motion creates a nausea from being tilted off balance.  Yet I can't unlock the door until I've completed the circuit.  Unable to be attentive to any aspect of life until I've rode out the obsession.  It's a series this time, I've watched 30 episodes in less than three days.

My head hurts from trying to think too soon.  Thoughts pound and flash in mental colours, yet they have no words despite them growing with impatience.

I am the  prisoner, awaiting mental bail.

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