ever stumble across something you wrote a long time ago and only then do you realize how regular and, eventually, comfortable lifes ups and downs are?
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i've reached the point of silence. my voice can't raise itself any higher, i've verbalised everything that can possibly be put into words, and all the aches from all my joints and all my throbbing gristly innards have been melted down into a singular layer of heaviness starting from the crown of my head and ending on the soles of my feet. it was all concentrated in my chest at first, released through my eyes and vibrated in my muscles. now every inch of skin sweats it out and re-absorbs it and every day it dilutes a bit more, but with that dilution comes a dull shock.
once i was walking in downtown chicago on randolph street going west. i had on my headphones and had just been on a train for three hours, so it's fair to say i was a bit spaced out. i crossed the street without looking to my left and halfway through the lane i remembered it wasn't a one way. i saw a huge truck speeding towards me, huge headlights. i ran to the other side, i felt the wind from it. i couldn't believe i had almost died.
that's how it feels. dull. impossible. but there. and very permanent.
i've given up to the grotesque, i refuse to fuel it. everything now seems tainted, everything that isn't perfect seems to be flawed as a result of all this chaos. potholes gape, wilting flowers moan, scars pucker and yawn. all the beautiful things become somber, not any less beautiful, you understand, but stifled. my frame to view the world has narrowed, my focus on the backs of my eyelids sharpens.
such a quiet quiet feeling. everything seems like internal dialogue. my stomach growling, my tongue sliding around...very quiet. at first it was all static. loud static, a thousand thoughts boiled together, all fighting to speak the loudest. my body wouldn't respond normally, i would be forced to bend at the waist and sink down whenever one of the more painful thoughts found that louder voice.
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i've reached the point of silence. my voice can't raise itself any higher, i've verbalised everything that can possibly be put into words, and all the aches from all my joints and all my throbbing gristly innards have been melted down into a singular layer of heaviness starting from the crown of my head and ending on the soles of my feet. it was all concentrated in my chest at first, released through my eyes and vibrated in my muscles. now every inch of skin sweats it out and re-absorbs it and every day it dilutes a bit more, but with that dilution comes a dull shock.
once i was walking in downtown chicago on randolph street going west. i had on my headphones and had just been on a train for three hours, so it's fair to say i was a bit spaced out. i crossed the street without looking to my left and halfway through the lane i remembered it wasn't a one way. i saw a huge truck speeding towards me, huge headlights. i ran to the other side, i felt the wind from it. i couldn't believe i had almost died.
that's how it feels. dull. impossible. but there. and very permanent.
i've given up to the grotesque, i refuse to fuel it. everything now seems tainted, everything that isn't perfect seems to be flawed as a result of all this chaos. potholes gape, wilting flowers moan, scars pucker and yawn. all the beautiful things become somber, not any less beautiful, you understand, but stifled. my frame to view the world has narrowed, my focus on the backs of my eyelids sharpens.
such a quiet quiet feeling. everything seems like internal dialogue. my stomach growling, my tongue sliding around...very quiet. at first it was all static. loud static, a thousand thoughts boiled together, all fighting to speak the loudest. my body wouldn't respond normally, i would be forced to bend at the waist and sink down whenever one of the more painful thoughts found that louder voice.
i try not to talk about stuff out of fear of the jinx aswell
I think that's the best entry I've read to date on this mothafucker.
I totally agree on the predictable rhythm. I'm not sure it makes the bottom end of these cycles any more palatteable, but helps feed the apathy by shaving off both ends of the spectrum.
I hope your bottom has been raised since you wrote this.
My cycles are running in months now.