Where do I start?

in this note, although without including every detail i was able to clear out my mind and have the self-awareness by writing my mind out, though inevitably confronted by the "resistance."

 

  When  silence doesn't tell me anything and the guitar has lost it's 7th string, i close my eyes and regress and within the 2nd,3rd,4th second i watch a matrix of letters forming words spinning spiral, intertwined, combined and unconfined but inside the hollows of my mind, in the unfathomable darkness that i find quite unpleasant, even nauseating. some words are written, unwritten, painted, some are sang out loud like a scream, like a disturbed scene in a Freudian dream.

  So i unclench my eyes to the the dimness of the light in the living room. Then i bat my eyes to help me visualize until i realize, i am in reality again and see things clearer but then, I'm sure I've got to let this tension out, my friend. i look around searching for a paper and pen, and they were somewhere else but within my reach. these ideas and words, rising now punishing and pressuring I to let them free! it is an aroused need, it has been arising in me.

  But i can't just spit them out because i am bound somehow to be understood otherwise they would be good for nothing. So along with the tickling sound of this friend that i found, i move my fingers, indeed with speed...

  I write and write like i get smart but where do i start? ...i always fall into the impasse at this part...

cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.

cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut.cut......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enough with the faint attempt to poetry. let's start the written sessions to psychotherapy.

(giatay....)

What is a better way to confront the impasse than to write about it?

  The impasse, is the state of being stuck or fixated in the middle things, and with the same reason you cannot go any further towards growth and progress. Like standing at the edge of a cliff at the edge of the world; you don't want to turn back, but taking a step forward means to jump off and fall down. This is just mind-f*****g, i agree. but i belong to a group of people who does not believe in a mind-and-body-split.

Whatever the mind experiences will manifest in the body in very many nasty ways.

 I didn't know how or when, but i've came to believe, feel, in a fair amount of certainty that there is so much in my mind that are worth sharing or at least i want to share. For many times, whether those were sober or drunk times, i have proven this, but for some reason, i just can't get hold of that proof, to be worn for a long time. And i am warning you, reader, whoever you are, that if i will not get my thoughts together soon enough, i will be writing a very, very long and cathartic whine. However, for the need of a better word, i will call it a story.

  So "once upon a time"--there is surely no need to start it with this phrase but why not? this could be the answer to all my problems, though i doubt. So once upon a hundred times and right now, i have encountered another viscous enemy, a deadly foe in the impasse, a menacing hindrance to self-expression and creativity, a Freudian crap called the 'resistance'. Yes. it certainly sounds like a movie about a revolution against power or of the city of Troy in defense against the Greeks who deem to penetrate and conquer, which associates me of another completely "off-topic" thing: again, coitus. If you speak the language of the ancients.

But the resistance, it's that other side of your ego which stops you from doing what you are supposed to want to do and made you chicken and feed you to the Spartans for breakfast. It's the resistance, that put's the asterisk when you write "Sh*t at your F*ckin' A**hole!" when you wanted to write "S**t at your F*****g A*****e!" It's the resistance that prevents you from writing because what you have in your mind to write is your resent against your own brother, to tell of your morbid wishes against your b*****d teacher, and your a*s-licking classmates, to name those names written in your mental Death Note notebook, to scribble coitus when u mean to say sex and it's the resistance that incapacitates me to quote love and romance, because I know that it will lead me to think of this single person, this single girl who made me feel like a guitar who lost it's 7th string. And i feel pity on this guitar, that although his lost didn't necessarily made him incomplete, it had surely made him insignificant, ordinary, plain, no longer special .

I lost the 8th color to my rainbow, the 6th taste to my tongue. My wineglass is full but that one drop that makes it overflow has stopped from dripping.

I am the sunshine of my life...it ends there, yet i remember quite well that for years, it shone brighter when i had her in it. This makes me shaky. Scared. Somehow--lost. For days, weeks, i lay disturbed before the hour i shut the world up to sleep. Despite what i've become by the day, i regress to the awareness of this loss as soon as i close my eyes and in a few moments, a vivid discomfort around the center of my face expelling tears, until tears are accompanied with sobbing and sobbing becomes violent cries. pathetic. i thought of that night. But to give this issue a hard slap to make it shut up; Let I reveal to you my awareness, the awaited satori that finally found it's place in this ambitious attempt to literature of a note, or story or whatever you call this. The fact that it was I who brought myself to the impasse. I walked from the safety of being at the center, towards the edge of the cliff at the edge of the world..and I like it here. Right here. At the edge, i can see everything that i won't see if I stay at the center...and that includes the center itself.

 INTEGRATION:

Looking at how far i am from the center makes me sad, unstable, afraid. Looking beyond the edge is exhilarating, risky, and gratifyingly adventurous. I know, knew, that i was just looking for adventure. Having self-awareness at the state of impasse let's you see the choices that are available for you and everything is in level. In between loss and adventure, both of them are right here at the edge.

(bow... i will not write about self-awareness because it's so clicheeeeeeeeeeeee! lol)

And this is how i declare that right now, I am sitting right on the impasse.......and I am but the resistance.

Author's Note

i wrote this exactly from to bottom, first the title then the 1st paragraph to the last word. :) andddddddd i'm too lazy to edit the capitals letters and punctuation. :P

Reviews

[Victoria PoetryBunny]

Unique write yet interesting.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Quite the interesting read. Experimental to say the least.

[Jane Doe]

Dodong! Hehe
See for a rant...it's pretty dang popular
And if I were to never have read it I xwould be UTTERLY CONFUSED WHY
But I did read it and EVERYONE loves it

Loved it :)
Luv ya
~inday
100/100

[NightShade]

Well, that was disorienting in the most delicious of ways. Not at all unlike certain refreshments that I brew or distill... Very entertaining and quite clever.

[Spookers]

One word: Nice. Lol.

[Dayran]

Reminds me of a balloon hobbyist who's been on a solo flight for too long. If such are the alternatives presented to you, then you would not think twice about picking up something very hard to do. Like a committment. Lovely poem. Bad psychology.

[Jane Doe]

Somehow the whole time I read this I knew somewhere in there you'd make a joke :)

I loved it though really different its a drum that's marches to its own beat;)
Love it love ya
Xoxoxo
~inday
100/10"