less/more

the less they _____
the more i ______

I'm going back to the mode, yes. I will. Scribbles in journals. People watching, introspection. I will be impervious. Cliche alert! The greatest battle is always within. I fight - wearily, but gamely on. I will walk the cold nights and wander the lonely streets. Eyes stinging from the air, nose cold and cheeks wind blown. I will walk, eyes: bright and strange, jaw clenched. Voice low and demure.

I will drink from a hot cup and light another cigarette.

the more i want them
the less they want me

vice versa.

Laundry needs doing, room needs cleaning. Girl needs resting. But something is stirring and I need to reclaim my nights. As I type, my heart pounds. I refuse to need anyone. I am weak, but people are either too good or too stupid to do anything about it. Little do they know that this moment is decisive. I could fall apart, weak kneed and defeated - if any knew the proper words - the proper way. Certain actions could destroy me now. I need to walk. I need to get outside.

My heart fights back, as my mind unravels.

I need strangers to ignore.

Part of me thinks that I should try and be calm and call someone, and try to explain to them that I feel like I'm spiraling. Try to explain that I am trying to keep in control but this darkness just keeps edging in on me and I am losing against it. And I don't know whether to cry or to sit in the dark, cradling myself until the moment passes or what. I don't know.

I've been trying, you see, these past couple years I have been trying very hard to stay in control. But I'm tired. I'm so tired, and I just want to stop trying and let myself be reckless and strange and hide from the world. No more routine, mundane, feeble attempts at making myself a part of the outside world. I just want to withdraw.

It disgusts me that I have been trying to reach out and form relationships and nurture friendships - guarding against this day - this night. This moment where I can't seem to stop myself from feeling crazy. Week by week, month by month, I make contact with these people - these lovely people - hoping that somehow their friendship will make me feel like I am a part of the real world and that I can be real. Hearing a friendly voice, hoping it will snap me back. But I keep detaching. It disgusts me because I am floating away, and I can't control it. I hate my phone and the fact that it taunts me. Even when I call someone, I can't voice what is troubling me.

Dear friends, I am troubled. I am scared. No matter how hard I try, this terror comes back. Year after year.

When it gets like this I want to escape, I want to withdraw. Escape by withdrawing.

When I speak, I speak so wisely. But if I had someone here right now, I think all I would be able to do is shake my head and cry. It is getting harder and harder to write this, the words aren't coming. I should stop. I'll stop now.

I am going to get dressed and walk somewhere. I can't handle myself right now.

Probably, by the time anyone hears from me - this moment will have passed and I will smile and say I was just feeling a bit crazy. But that I feel "much better now". Don't ask me what's wrong.. I thought I knew but now I think maybe that some things about myself are really out of my control.

Get ready streets, my feet are seeking you. I need to hold communion with the moon.