let it all out / Saturday, April 28, 2012


i feel like i'm scraping by surviving this world. i always sit and contemplate the day, the information, press it through an introverted screen that enhances my perceptions and understanding of myself and the other every-things. but i understand so little. so much contradicts itself in my head. the moment i feel wise, i do something foolish. i cannot create art when anything is expected of me, it's a struggle to make a career out of that. the most trusted friend betrayed that trust in earnest carelessness. i sit on my angry hands with a problem, thinking it over for so long that it magically works itself out. i put an issue off, try to ignore it, and it becomes a glaring wound in my life. the most painful experiences have quickened my compassion, and the more compassionate i feel the more my failures hurt.

i get to the breaking point, of my depression or anger or issue, where it hits this glass ceiling of personal integrity. a ceiling that, from far below, looks so beautiful and crystal clear. the things beyond it are beyond me, but they are gorgeous anyway and my shoulders are light. then the seasonal floods rush in, and start pushing me up- i get so angry i could lash out, or i'm so sad i want to die, or some other breach of my code. sometimes it's like a tidal wave that carries me up to break hard against the glass, and other times it pools around my ankles in a steady climb over weeks. the anxiety differs, but it's always a race to find the clog. sometimes i try to slosh around on wet ground, try to ignore the warning signs.

but when i'm in its grip, if i let my head fall under the water, i'll be carried away in the undercurrent to lower ground. a place where the view of the ceiling is even more obscure and hard to see. a punishment, wasted time, a bitterness that takes a long while to climb out of. i've been in there, in the lower valleys and caves- i don't ever want to go back.

so in those terrifying moments where my head hits the wall, the pressure threatens to crush me the more i resist. i've struggled so long there, it's like a repeating nightmare. the longer i hold my breath, the less chance there is to survive it at all. i try to break through, but the glass is too thick. i get that stab in my lungs that says, "now or never, fool," and i start slipping across the surface. and i push away, and dive deeper into the drain. just to try another day.

but sometimes when the ground is wet, as i do tend to learn, i contemplate the ceiling. i keep my eyes on it, searching for an answer, even while being pushed closer. i see soft shapes and fleeting beauty, so many things, so many good things. i can hardly make sense of it, it is so foreign to me, but it's in my nature to try. and while watching the glass press down on me, a conflict for clarity arises. will my anxiety of the conflict conspire to interrupt the view? or will i get a good look of the other side, somehow gaining a better understanding of repetitively smashing against the beautiful rocks? what it means?

it is rare i do. it is very rare, but i am grateful to say it has happened. i kept my eyes open and held my breath and someone appeared, strange and hazy but i get the feeling she's me. she reaches out to touch my hands through the glass, and somehow her fingertips reach me. sometimes i'm too enraptured to realize what this means, and i start to pass out, but she dips her hands in around my face and pulls it through. i take the sweetest gasp, and can hardly open my eyes in all that light, but she holds me there, and whispers sweet things. i can barely feel the storm raging around my body, when she kisses beads of water off my forehead. she tells me things i won't remember, and some i do, but it always feels right and the little secrets make perfect sense. i can never stay long, just until i've caught my breath. she looks at me a little sadly, with a slight pain, and has to push me back in.

but i always have the strength to dive for the clog, and i always find it. and i ride out the wave while it drains, and i settle on the grass, all to contemplate the ceiling. just so that tomorrow i can continue the study of experience, this progression of human reality, while gazing up at the ceiling that won't be there someday.



02:00 a.m.