Um, so I've been coming to terms with a lot of toxicity surrounding my past, namely my childhood and how I numbed myself for the pain of it all, and I wrote this and wanted to share. I assume no one will see this so it seems as safe a place as any to house.
The ringing in my ears has gotten worse,
Is that a sign of returning or leaving?
I cling to notions of far off places and realities I do not partake in to rid myself of this vessel and this sensory experience.
Do not touch me, I will not feel.
Do not speak to me, I will not hear.
Do not see me, I will not perceive.
How can I expect anything less in return?
I will not perceive, so I will not see.
I will not hear, so I will not listen.
I will not feel, so I will not touch.
The routine is elegant and predictable.
In a life of so many unexpected outcomes, is it so wrong to cling to what I know, to what I have become accustomed to?
A boy kissed me, and I thought I felt him, in a way I had not dared experience before.
But what I experienced then was a shadow of a feeling.
A faint apparition dancing along the blank cave of my empty sensory self.
I have made my body unreachable, illegal to even myself to perceive.
You know me? No you do not.
How can you know me better than myself, who still knows nothing about the room I house.
I retreat to small corners to collapse into a space with tighter forms and restrictions, limitations and exceptions, smaller than current existence, where consciousness cannot fit, to escape.
To escape, to find recompense from the maddening tumult of this meticulously constructed cage of a person.
I am not who you think I am, because the shadow I have projected onto the wall of your mind is the best interpretation I could gather of my own shadow.
Am I returning, or am I once again retreating?
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