Full circle

Without death, how can there be life?

Without depravity, how can there be abundance?

Without dying depressions, how can there be cresting highs?

I have no control.

Bring me full circle.

Musings

Resolution.

Faith

Survival.

Everything comes with a price.

Price lends balance.

• – – – – – – –

Q What has language got to do with our limitations of being social animals?

A The very concept of language, which is used to convey knowledge, is tied to and limited to our social nature.

Q What happens if we are not social?

A There is no communication, nor communal effort. We die.

Conclusion:

A vague sense of safety in communal living and communication lends us a sense of comfort, when the truth is ignorance, eternal partial ignorance in matters, is the price we pay for being who we are and being alive.

This ties to our resolution and faith to live on even though we know that we will never know everything, despite a tearing thirst for such- one of the most interesting things about human progress.

 

 

The power of thoughts

The power of thoughts over me is incredible.
Right now it is trying to stop me from going to a commitment. Its persuasive tongue moves, flicks suggestively.
That’s all it is, suggestive. It doesn’t even need to list out concrete ways in which things can go wrong; all it needs is a vague scenario, an emotion, which makes it all the more powerful.
Emotions are powerful to me. All it takes is one night of interrupted sleep, and my brain goes haywire in its misjudgements of how things can go- even if they have been perfectly normal, even great, before- freezing me in sudden, irrational self-loathing. The idea that since I’m a frozen piece of meat loaf, perhaps the best thing I could drive myself to do was to turn the meat loaf into a piece of dead meat loaf fertiliser. 
Of course, that is not true. There will only more grief, not joy, for others to consume.
I have a demon in my head. A black dog sounds too demure. Which name is better?

The Black Dog chewed a hole in my brain

I have a Black Dog. His name is Depression.

Sometimes, when he is fed enough darkness and isolation and idleness, he gets strong enough to drag me by his maw. 

The first time that happened, I found a hole that he had dug for me. Almost like a grave. He drags me listless and tortured to the edge, where he waits for me to fall.

I was tired.

I almost did.

Family and friends called out. I was trapped in this hole in my brain and could barely hear them, could barely hear them above the slavering of the beast’s jaws. His eyes are of delight and deceit.

I was falling, but a friend threw a desperate lasso of connection that caught me around the waist. 

I can tell you where I’m at right now: with the help of antidepressants and family and friends, I’m slowly climbing up the rope to the light.

God knows what the light holds.

One night

I can finally see/ you’re as fucked up as me/ so how do we win?

We met and it was good, but no as great as it could be with a emotional connection.

We could have chosen to meet again and it would have been better than the first time- we like and respect each other. 

But the price would have been too great.

We were both haunted by demons of a broken heart and we weren’t ready to have it doubled upon by two nights of passion and inevitable emotional connection.

It hurt, sensibly. 

I don’t know his demons but I know mine. Though I don’t know his personally, I can feel it in my heart and gut that they are of a similar breed. 

At least I understand that.

At least he understands that.

–

Cause we both know a break/ does exactly what it says on the tin

I miss him. I think he misses me, maybe in a slightly different way.

Let my heart break. It is made of human muscle, not glass. The pain will last a little while but it will grow back stronger.

Touch starved

How long has it been since you last gave or were given touch? 

In my life, the times when I have thrived the most have involved relationships where we hold hands, hug, massage, cuddle, kiss.

They can be platonic friends, romantic partners, family. 

The most important part is the touch. 

Yet everything- even things that we need for life- has a price. Food for your money. Oxygen for carbon dioxide. It is a process, a cycle.

Touch, and along with it intimacy, has a lofty price of vulnerability and possible rejection.

It is a brand of courage that I would like to cultivate at university.

–

If ever I successfully switch major to Psychology, this would be one of  topics that I consider for my dissertation. Wish me luck! 🙂

Pallor

Pallor, pigments fading fast

Sun sets, darkness descends

–

My mind at last awake

having dodged the rays of the golden Sun

wreaking havoc

upon

my skin-

how dare she shine her free-radical-inducing, vitamin-generating light

into my hollow

pale body-

how dare she

reveal my nakedness-

so I drew the curtains closed and covered myself.

Twisted Coordinates

We are dots of experience on a grid grating by on time. Time connects these dots together, gives us unique form.

We think we are special. We lie sprawling across the platform of life, confident in the knowledge that each of our dots is placed on an irreplaceable coordinate. Our form is by itself unique.

Our form is by nature of time and experience uniquely confined. We lie sprawling on our own across the platform of life and realise that we are limited, and therefore, alone.

We search for order. Stories, equations, coordinates to give order in the great great grid of infinite universe where we are infinitesimal dots lined up by strange forces.

We open our eyes each day, as a page turns and morning dawns- to search for someone who is parallel to us. That is one of the great meanings in our existence.

It is a gift to find someone on the same axis.

 

As bent as we are by life’s convoluted experiences, we lie, sprawling across the great great grid of the universe, searching for someone who is our parallel, who may at last

understand.

And strange forces will

align the spaces between two separate beings

And render them

Parallel.

Self-imposed Solitude

Loneliness is a feeling hard to articulate.

It is an individual feeling felt across all individuals at some point.

It is a deprived pain, a pain that comes from having tasted the human essence of social activity and finding it replaced with something else:

Solitude, with no sounds exchanged. Silence

Cracking open a smile on the face while surrounded by people but with no one to call

Filling words onto a page but aware of the futility of it all

That no one will be in this body

That my chest is forever filled with blood and a beating heart but

never
with the soul of another human being.

–

 

INFP Introduction!

Hi there! My name is Cheryl, I’m 18, and I’m an INFP.

Sometimes I feel as though I’m composed entirely of Introversion, Feeling, and Perception.

This blog is a potpourri of my writings which I’ve gathered over the years. They can be anything from prose to free verse to poetry.

My main purpose in starting this blog is to materialise my feelings in language, as well as begin a platform on which people can relate to and share thoughts about our curious human condition.