Seventy Two

I wish this trap of a mind of mine came with some sort of manufacturer's guide, not just to satisfy my curiosity or enhance my knowledge but for the benefit of a more comprehensive understanding in reacting to its thoughts. For a while its functionality proved to suffice but recent encounters have seemingly melted it into a puddle of helplessness. It is overworked and underpaid, searching frantically for loose ends to tie up the shrivelling linens that curtain my fears. Lately, all the thoughts that manifest in my delicate mind are desperately chasing momentary glimpses of bright synthetic optimism that flicker purely with the intent of teasing my hopeful remains - or so I am fooling myself to believe.

Questions answered by questions, answers refuted by questions, responses questioned by silence; Mysteries left unsolved in the disorderly world in which they revolve.

And so my system is undergoing a prolonged phase of "temporary" construction. My memory is cruel, reasoning is biased, perception is polluted, and judgement is tainted. In search of peace of mind for this piece of my mind, the pure and good intentions I held so proudly have been buried under boatloads of crated fear. Disheartening as it may be, I regrettably left your efforts to lift the masses of debris uncompensated.

Frustration spreads. Disappointment thickens. Confusion swells. Anxiety builds. Stress intensifies. Discomfort grows. Fear escalates. Doubt increases. Hope starves. Chaos ensues..

Emotions are the cold and empty world for which I dress myself each morning in layers upon layers of inhibitions. This is not my idea of ideal. I have no recollections to ever being so lost all at once, especially after being so meaningfully reassured. Not once have I had any reservations to pouring my truths into your hands. Yet, all of a sudden I find myself feeling compelled to hide from you and all your promising security. And this all brings such a heavy and uneven distribution of unfairness for which I truly apologize from the very center of my shattered heart.

I need patience - not for myself, but for whoever chooses to take the time to unravel the impeccable mess that I have become. Patience, because time has none left for me and it has outweighed me so greatly that I have been hanging and slipping off the edges of an unforgiving scale, while clinging to it with every bit of strength in my fingertips.

Patience, because it will restore the balance I found in you all along.