Intimidating thoughts

A piece I wrote over a year ago.

When was the last time you wished to curl in a hole just so you can have the perfect silence in hope that your brain will give you an idea about how to finally solve your problems? I've been so tired recently, no, not tired of not being able to sleep properly which is usually the case. But tired of thinking. Tired of not being able to concentrate, to think clearly, to resolve anything. What to do when you're too ashamed to bother your friends by asking them for advice for something very discreet- without actually telling them the full story, or at least whom it concerns, or what it is about? I know, complicated right?

That's my problem, I'm very intimidated by my thoughts. And no, not dirty, disgusting, immoral thoughts- not in any way. In fact the opposite. My intimidating thoughts are actually kind. Sounds weird right? I'll try to explain.

I'm not a genuinely nice person. For many years I found it very hard to find any sort of affection- never mind love in me. The basic type of affection, like a child has for it's mother, I always lacked that. There have been dark secrets closed in me which were daring to come out and be heard, like monsters, like bad dreams... I expressed my pain in many ways, through drawing, writting, rebelliousness, sex, torture of myself... But the most useful of all was just to speak about it. I was always too afraid because I never knew a person who I wished to discuss such traumatising experiences with, and I could't just do it with anyone, regardless of their professional skills or whatever. And I once found a person I very much wanted to speak to about it, but not about the monsters, but about the effects. It was strange, I was so young, still a child. I fully disclosed to that person, told her everything, she became my inspiration and I very much fed of her energy. But than she did something wrong- wrong in a way that it made me affectionate towards her. For years even my mother couldn't do that for me. So I fell in love, I fell in a motherly type of love. Cherished and honoured that person with all the blood in my body, and cared enormously for her. Cared about the little things, like hoping that she's safe while driving in icy weather, or hoping that she doesn't overwork herself, or that she isn't sad, cold, afraid or lonely. It was weird, I felt full of life for two years from than. I was so happy. Slowly recovering from my severe depression and in search of a new me/ for a new life. Inspired that I almost felt powerful over my own damn mind, and that I could just do anything. Even leave the person I love in no hope to retain a relationship, and with very little contact.

But what is it about minds? Why are they so much more powerful than us? After we both went in different directions, different cities, well I moved to a different city, I felt lost. A part of my energy is missing. I feel empty, like my soul has been halved. What am I on about? I don't even believe in the existence of souls, or maybe I do? Maybe only affectionate people have them, maybe I achieved a soul when I first cared, and felt it when I lost what made feel alive? Maybe I just over studied and I speak crap. Urghh I hate philosophy.

The empty space inside of me screams, it needs help, and it's hurting me- like a cat scratching me from the inside- not super painful but very irritating. I'm torn between how to explain to someone that I NEED their energy, and I have so much to give them. So much that it hurts even more. All this masked affection is now just breaking to come out of me. And it shouldn't feel intimidating to let someone know about how much they mean to your life, and how much care you are willing to give them, because they inspired you to feel that- and who else could you feel that towards if not them? It shouldn't feel intimidating, but yet it does.

I try so very hard to think things through carefully, and to decide on what to do- we don't have time until forever, some things just need to be said, but than there are things which don't, and I'm just so confused with which one relates to me the most. I remain so calm from outside, and I can't help it. But inside I feel so vulnerable. I wish I could just scream things out, punch a wall, cry, but I can't, so I'm just going to have another cigarette, in hope of a very painful death.

L