Very much out of control, I think. Very much so.

Where’s my head? Lost my head. On knees, grasping at where it was last left.

Funny. Funny, funny thing. Control is. Don’t know what it was, that it was wanted so badly, or held so dear, until life gets too big to fall neatly into our little, little world.

Never was in control, nay, not I. Life just stacked into what I could see, could understand. Somewhat somehow anyway. Why am I surprised if it goes a bit off? I wasn’t the one keeping it on.

I think it’s an illusion.

I can’t even control these hands, these feet. But don’t they always say you are your strongest enemy?

It slips away the more it is grasped that I think it wasn’t meant to be possessed at all. Letting go of that which never belonged to you is much harder than it sounds.

But that’s because I believed the dratted illusion.

I am at that part of the dream, the part where you’re flying in the air and you realise you’re flying that you look down and begin to sink rather helplessly. That’s how it always happens. When you’re up there or think you’re up there, and you think you got there by yourself, trying to make something of the naive child you are, trying to prove something to someone, that you are broken, over and over. Nothing you ever do quite helps you go up again. Nothing you did made you go up anyway.

Just a dream.

It’s not that I don’t know how to go from here. It’s that I can’t, or won’t.

I cannot.

Public service announcement: am absolutely the meanest, most insensitive, worst version of myself that I can possibly be at the moment. Completely in the mood to wound, unintentionally, of course, but effectively so all the same. Would probably be in this mood all my life if not for divine intervention. Of which my spirit is crying out for, words of life. Of which my flesh is being a snorlax of an obstacle, refusing to budge.

I know it would be more useful to deal with this instead of issuing a PSA to apologise/justify/warn people but at the moment, snorlax sleeps.

Need to go soak my head in whatever is good, noble, right and true when I find it. Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. Words of life never return empty. Need them to give them.

I know this is what counts. I know this is where it counts. But so much for knowing. Knowing is no longer enough.


2 thoughts on “PSA

  1. it is ok to lose control sometimes we all do. just let the guilt eat u alive later lololol sigh morbid life

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