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if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison'

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May. 17th, 2009 | 02:19 pm

it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

There is no time for organised words as each thought feels as separate as the next. I have other more important words to write but they have been shoved aside for the moment, this fuzziness that has smothered my mind has not settled in time for due dates. Oh dear, the hassle it will cause (I do not know whether the prospect of staying at uni longer is an enjoyable concept or not).

I do not feel like I am switched on completely; visualise a light switch that is balanced in between its two functions. The joy is there, a buzz in the recesses of my mind that seems to indirectly have control over the patterns of my thought. Inconspicuous this buzz is but I know that it is doing something back there; visualise the man behind the frightening machine in the Wizard of Oz, he is pressing all of the buttons. Frustration builds ups fast, rampant when at the surface but it simmers if I control it. I am a fucking pot of emotion and I don't know quite how to use it.

The well of feeling inside my chest is throbbing, not only with the beat of a heart but of anticipation. I am half way towards experiencing either a normal range of emotion or the range of an off the charts patient.  There is peace within me but it is not mine and my body is in the mood for sabotage.  The anticipation is not of pleasure but the kind an animal might experience when hunting, seeing a blur dart in front of them, a prey is close by.

These ovals of white frighten me.

I don’t know what to do know with these limbs that hang on so expectantly. I am on the edge with people, wondering whether this will end or will it keep going. I always expect people to leave, always will. My chest aches ever so constantly. Every day now feels like I have put a book down a page before the climax; only predictions and anxiety guide me through it without answers to my questions.

Will this help to fix me? Or will I morph into another with the same bitterness as before? I don’t believe in anything, it is safer to do so sometimes. Disappointment shoots through me like a transcendent arrow and poisons my blood. I will grow weaker in time if I stay myself. The only chance I have is to change.

 

 

 

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