Thoughts of the introverted mind.

 

Chapter 1

I am to be continued!

 

I envision life abstractly. I live outside of the box. I float around in this universe waiting to be knocked back into consciousness. My eyes are a camera lens and I only have to press the button to focus in on one object and everything else around will blur. I am so highly sensitive that a slight breeze can push my thoughts higher than the bluest of skies.

Music is my puzzle, the bits and pieces are countable. The beat to music, it matches my heart, and we are a metronome. For example: I turn the music all the way up in the car after school while I sit and wait for my brother. The entire car will be moving to the beat. I watch myself in the the rear view mirror. Each beat shakes it slightly, and my face will move out of focus.

 

Then, it dawns on me:

I am the off subject in every picture. And I am the off beat to every metronome.

I am off? Off where? Over there? Here?

 

i am blurred. i am broken. i am broken. i am broken. i am blurred.

                               Then why am I so clear?

                                    I can hear me.

                                     Can you?

 

        I am just lost in a crowd

                                please, continue to suffocate me

                       Ive been found missing

I feel like I am talking to myself

                            what nonsense is this?

I don't want to be alone.

 

Am I the mirror image?

Is it better if I am backwards?

Would it help to say: “!pleh eM”

No, it does nothing.

I am still here.

 

I want to be held.

 

 

                                           I want to be held in such a way.

                           That I may fall apart.

                                            That I may fall apart in open arms.

            Is it warmth I need?

Or do I need to have love transferred to me?

                 a love transfusion.

I want to collapse.

To collapse in someones arms.

I want to let go.

 

Like my friend I once knew well.

So did she. want to let go that is...

But I found her.

She said its different.

She was never allowed to live.

 

Her skin.

                                                                                          It was gray.

Gray.

 

                                       Am I really this bland?

                                      I can't taste my future.

                          There are premonitions of my past.

 

I saw you.

I saw you in my dream.

I saw you in my nightmare. Oh dark creature, why must you threaten me?

 

I want to live in a cartoon house.

I want.

I want.

I want.

                  I wish for what I want and I want for what I need.

 

It's all a chain reaction.

What do you want?

I am only slightly invisible.

I am noticed, but absent.

 

Kept waiting.

Its the way that its meant to be.

All four chambers of my heart.

They are barren.

 

Attention BRAIN: there is a drought in your soul, please water yourself.

 

 

 

A cardboard box arrives.

                                    HANDLE WITH CAUTION.

“Mom, why is my friend already broken?”

 

“I didn't mean to order it used honey.”

 

Spark's of interest.

The mind of an introverted human.

 

I believe it is possible to be falling up also. I fall. I fall all the time. I trip over happiness on my way out. He stops in for a short cup of tea. He leaves his left overs for me to clean up. What does happiness feel like? I thought I have felt it before, but if you are unsure how would you really know? Is it that feeling of enlightenment? Or is that just to be enlightened? Do they mean the same thing?

 

I question.

I never ask. I question, questions. I answer, answers. Sometimes there is nothing to answer or question. And sometimes, my answers are larger than the world.

 

Oh blessed Earth. You are so beautiful. Breathe me into your green forests. Plant me in your soft grasses. Throw me in the wind. Shine me in the sun. Rush me through the river. Draw me in the clouds.

 

Dear god of mine. Why do you do nothing? Am I this useless that you don't want me on this lovely Earth. I BELIEVE IN YOU. I know you are out there somewhere. Or maybe I am weak. I am weak.

I am weak.

 

WAKE UP! Wake up the sun, wake up the stars, light up the sky bright enough for me to see. Paint the moon orange. Show me the rust. Let me smell the morning dew. Allow me to fulfill the essence of life.

I feel dead. I am dead inside of a living body. But my mind, my mind flows. My mind thrives. Electrocute me, shock me.

I never did wondered before...

Can we be sideways and upright?

 

 

 

 

Am I a poison to myself?

 

Black and white.

I would rather see in shades of light.

 

 

I am crazy. I am lifeless. I am unrealistic. I am unfeeling.

I am.

I am.

I am.

 

 

I realize what I am.

 

I do not realize what I am.

                                                    Lie your self down.

Meditate with me.

 

Because life in itself is nothing.

And nothing is something.

Amongst all the nothings.

I speak in riddle for a reason.

                         The human mind is a battle field.

 

 

You have been shot down.

Chapter 2

The world is spinning in the wrong direction.

 

 

 

What do you see when you at someone's face? Do you look “into” them? Where do you watch first? Personally, I am attracted to the eye. There is a certain depth to an eye. How the pupil dilates, the color rings. Eyes must not reflect, but they must project. The projection of vast cities; an entrance to the mind. How, HOW, can a pair of eyes have no life, no shine, no sparkle? A lone pair of marbles. Is your soul hard and cold too?

 

Don't look at me like that, your staring right through me, reading my soul.”

 

 

 

I can tune them out.

There are motions to be slowed.

Allow me to jump into slow motion.

Drop your pen.

Watch it hit the floor once, watch it bounce back.

And then, it takes another fall.

The pen is dead.

On the last fall.

There will be no bouncing back.

 

Do you see that sunset?

Yes, the one up there.  Over in the distance...

Amazing what an imagination will do to an inanimate object, imagination gives it a life.

 

 

I find entertainment in sleeping.

Sleep is not always quiet.

Nightmares are loud.

SCREAM.

Scratch your nails against the wall.

 

 

Fit yourself in to a straight jacket.

It will only hurt for a short time.

This is a promise I am not willing to make.

 

Time.

Time drifts.

Time floats.

Time does not fly.

Time is thrown away.

 

An empty gun, will fire far.

One bird will drip out of the sky.

 

The End

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