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Still Filtered

Filter and control are marvelous things that can make you lost in your own mind like no other.

Introspection on what I have thus far written has recently made me realize how filtered all my writings are, how fluffy. Even in madness, I need to find a beauty, a rhyme, a metaphor that makes all the ugly go away and only touches the monstrous rearing head of those negative feelings that lie beneath the surface.  An old friend once told me you’re too controlled, your writing is like you: beautiful, witty but guarded-avoiding what really bugs you, afraid to let people know the side of you that’s not always sunshine and roses, to let them see there’s a human behind the smiling imp. A human that feels things probably more than most.  I didn’t understand him then but now I do. Life IS gritty and while we can control emotions we can’t control our situations or avoid them forever.

And sometimes we can’t control our situations OR our emotions. But it’s always a scary thing, trying to open up and feel, trying not to avoid, trying to let people know you feel so intensely because it takes away a power. A lonely power that eats at you, but a power nonetheless. Honestly, if anyone’s reading this, there is no end to this rant-no summation that ties my thoughts up in a nice bow- it’s an errant collection of thought accumulating to a bunch of sentences I write here. Mostly because right now my thoughts are all over the place, some metamorphosing as I write.

At this point, I don’t know how to go from here from fluffy to reality but acknowledgement is the first step right?

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Promise

Lately I feel like I am in a bubble

One that I created by myself

And I don’t know why.

What am I running from?

Who am I punishing?

Why am I putting myself in situations

Where I feel less than?

Why am I isolating myself to a point

Of no return, letting go of relationships

I hold dear and then hating myself for it

What’s with the stupid punishment?

Let’s take an oath to love ourselves,

The way the people around us do

Because if you and I can’t love ourselves

All that’s in the world is time passing by

And us waiting for the day

When time starts to slow

And we regret all the time we spent putting ourselves down

While we should have been bring ourselves up.

 

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This Is Ape Shit

You know, no one ever tells you

that losing control is hard work,

It’s not something you can just do

Because the results can be catastrophic.

Losing control takes a certain skill

To know when it’s okay to let go

Without fucking up your entire life.

But see, that’s not really losing control

When you premeditate WHEN to lose it.

My sister always tells me to loosen up, live a little,

To loosen the bridle once in a while.

To her I ask:

Woman, when is this ‘while’ you speak of?

And where can I find it?

If I find it and don’t stumble across it,

Does it still count as letting go?

Since I went seeking for it?

Does going ape shit count as losing control?

WHAT IS ‘LOSING CONTROL’?!

Like I said losing control is hard work,

(Partially probably because I don’t know what it MEANS exactly)

Even my self control, which has been putting in 24 hours a day

Everyday- religiously, thinks so.