| Diary of a Neurotic | ||||||
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December 09, 2003 Neurotic is how she always is. Feeling like she always does. Neurotic, paranoid, crazy, annoyed, irritated…so many adjectives fluttering about but missing the target. Wearing this life like a hideous garment your mother chose for you, drab, dark and monotonous- completely unflattering. Old fashioned patterns that make you sick and nervous. Mostly, tight and claustrophobic, the seams dig into your skin, uncomfortable and depressed. You claw your way out of it, tear and bite. The fabric reminds of you of death thick, moldy, miserable. Sharp objects and fire could be your best accomplices to end this war once and for all but like everything else in this world they betray and leave your side when you need them the most and you resort to what comes the easiest – crying. Occasionally, this garment expands, air flows freely, you cry again but like the child who is made to cry to gulp the first breaths of air - necessary and important. The color and pattern looks similar to what everyone else is wearing - you’re in style blending in with the happy crowds. The garment you once hated seems to be energizing and recharging, feasting and borrowing life from the people that surround you. This is the only time you try your best to tie it around, chase and grab it lest it abandons you. When you think you have it forever, you know you could get used to it, live and love this garment dressed by fate. But it’s like a floating bubble – beautiful, floating and free and as soon as you get your grubby hands over it…it pops! Life shrinks back too many sizes until its too small again, fitting smugly like two forks in a cutlery tray, arms against arms, body against body, appearing to be twins if you glanced at them in haste. (4:05 AM) ~`~
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