Random Thought Bubbles

Living in dreams of now and forever

In the same bed of roses and thorns

Bloodied hands and white scars

Peering through the looking glass

Leaving crimson prints in crystal

For those who don't believe in the past

Echo, echoing into the void

Like lace in the wind

Missing those hidden memories

In the recesses of the mind

Unexpected resurfacing

For those who don't believe in another life

Where natural becomes forbidden

In the frailty of time

"Have you ever felt so strung out that you feel completely drained, like everything you have in you was emptied out on the street and stomped on by a very thoughtless child? I can't say I haven't (but I don't have that feeling today). It's amazing the range the pain scale has. From slight sadness to feeling like it's time you expired. A particular one I never could stomach (so to say) was the garden variety episodic numb stabbing pain that radiates from the center of my chest. The polar opposite of that falling in love feeling but just as intense (but then again who knows what love should feel like besides transient palpitations that you mistake for happiness)."

Looking back at my old drafts that were never published, and above is one from 2005... that's almost 10 years ago... what intense feelings I have had have truly passed. These days the days are punctuated by deadlines and aspirations but I seem to achieve these by luck and by reputation. I suppose I work hard enough and watch what I say when not intoxicated. A sense of curiosity and a need to prod my psyche leads me down a winding path. Is this where I have brought myself or is it a mixture of fate and predetermination and did I ever believe in that?

The first paragraph feels so foreign that I don't remember ever typing it. Was it in a time of calm or a time of turmoil? The early years of uni were littered with romantic/disillusioned entanglements that were confusing to say the least. There were moments of striking out and moments of complete anguish. Such contrasts of emotion that caused me to shake in my skin. The intensity made the world barely real around me. I favoured the black and white, the extremes of life and it took me to such dark places. But there was no other way I could've learnt otherwise, at the time.

What a difference a year, several years, make. I sometimes wonder how it all could've been if the extremes had not been extremes, if the black and white ideology didn't exist. It was all so strange to read about borderlines. Like looking into a mirror then. It was like sunlight coming through stormy skies, like a weight being lifted, when it dawned. And then I changed. It was like light and day. It is recent enough that I almost remember.

These days I am drained because the day at work has been long and hard, because there are more deadlines to meet. Maybe it is the imaginary construct my organized self has created to build structure into this otherwise disorganized mind. In my head the ideas exist as blobs of work that finally come together when the end is near. Fleeting concepts get grasped at and materialize.

It's all so foggy still.

Maybe it's just another day

The husband is at work. Maybe I'm just missing him and bored. Idle hands and all that jazz.

If she could answer

What those turquoise eyes 

Have seen

Maybe Celeste will know

If I could ask her

Where in life

She's been

To creeping indifference

And monotony brings

A heavy lightness

That becomes a burden

Like toes just touching the earth

And you are holding on for 

Dear life

When suddenly you realize

Where did it all go?

But such is happiness

That being content

Is confused with 

Giving up

Then a new search 

Is called for

It is thunderous, the silence

Grasping for inspiration straws

To keep the steamroller going

Losing steam, losing steam