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To cry or not to cry?


Invisible Princess

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12/10/16

I'ts 8PM. The clock downstairs is chiming out. You see the time ticking over to 8:01PM. You realise that you don't want to work. You realise that all that this will achieve is you feeling worse than when you started. You see the ambiguity in that last sentence and realise that when you say 'this', that in fact it could refer to the work or this writing. Both are going to make you feel worse (Congrats, you started a sentence with a word other than 'You'). The snarky comments you speak only to yourself. Pause. Think. Nothing.

Do you hate those thoughts? Clearly you don't know what to say about them. Are they wrong? Perhaps not? You probably shouldn't think that? "You *****", they reply. Why do you see them as someone else? Why are you writing this. "Anyone reading this would think you're crazy". I suppose by making them 'someone else', you can deflect the insults, shrug them off just like if someone else insulted you. Except you don't, that's half you're problem. You never shrug off the comments, you instead internalise them. But you don't, you say it doesn't bother you and the comment almost acts like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but the key word is almost. I think deep down, they hurt, and deep down you're too damaged to function. Deep down your internal working mechanisms are imploding. Deep down you're falling apart. But all this is so far deep down that you can't see it. The fuse in that lightbulb has already blown, and you have noticed. I think others may have noticed too. They see the steam let off condense and leak through to the surface, they saw that maybe not everything has been functioning as it should be. But that doesn't matter. They won't say anything, and neither will you, even if they did, you'd just lie and shut them down like you have with all the other warning lights flashing inside. 

Those leaks through to the surface seem to be becoming more and more unmanageable. They keep springing out and you can't always stop them now. They are beginning to take their hold on you again, and you see you were here before but those small leaks have shed their disguise. The tears block your eyes. So now, you can't see, you can't see how you felt with this before, and all thats left for you is to stair at the floor, or the door anything that could take you away. Away from the lack of control, the feelings, the aching of your body and mind. 

You don't know what you're doing. Again. And that is the question.

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