Chronicles of a HeadCase

The constant struggle between reasoning and this passion. The words of logic become hazy in the moment of hope, and I find myself speechless to attempt a trial of releasing this pressure cooked and dormant expression in a comprehensible manner. All this steam, so congested and humidified that if any were to escape… it may be catastrophic. I am yet again, afraid to take any chances. Yet, no indication of a truce nor a parellelity is visible. So, here I am pondering the questions that I have questioned… lucid and intangible, the feelings of being a being of this dream. I have propogated escape for a decade, and now that I have landed, to be once again a passenger on this dream passage is so unfamiliar, so scary. I have neglected living for so long that I no longer know how to live. When will I prevail over myself? This elusive and bipolar transition confuses the hindsight that contradict all reactionary cohersiveness that I have been so used to… the insight and the perserverance fail when I am so involved into this stream of variability. So, I wait and observe, for the moment that a wave crashes onto shore, that I may see a vivid direction in which the backlash of the crash will emerse. The counter-effect of this weary ripple, so lost and undecided in its’ behaviour that I am drowning in the midst of the hurricane. I may just be a washed up survivor of a storm that ship-wrecked my intentions that I never knew I had, for I had forgotten of the deadly weathers that feed off the fears of my doubt. So, sobriety no longer becomes an option, as I am grounded by my leapless effort to be once again, the person I pushed away and misled; and to be wishfully reunited with a connection to the sea. So, as I sit in regret of my inaction, I watch the wave slowly relapse back to the sea… crashing onto my shore and then dissapearing into the bowels of the ocean. Perhaps, the winds will rise again, for this wave will not last with such powerful under-currents. I wish it would sweep me away from all of the storms, perhaps I will remain in captivity until the disaster resides, and return to a beautiful equilibrium where I may be myself again. Eventhough, being myself never really made sense to me and I am tempted again to pick another mask…