Battling Demons (That feeling)


that feeling
on the edge
almost coming

fighting, fighting
fighting the demons (of self)
fighting the darkness
fighting back tears.

sharp smells
bright lights
memory is like smell and taste
can’t quite pin it down
describing never does it justice
but it’s so strong, so poignant.

fighting back thoughts.

that feeling:
all consuming
an emotion morphed
and spilling over
into sensation

that feeling
suffocating, all around
pressing in, closing in
can’t
breath

that feeling
like it’s
not worth moving
not worth opening
your eyes
not worth breathing
not worth living

that feeling
so unbearable
that a mental scramble
for remedies
leaves you thinking
only this:

chop off my head
just wanna chop off my head
surely that would make me feel better
make the thinking
and the memories
and the almost-crying
and the want-to-dying
stop

or just dig a hole in my chest
both sound good
sounds like comfort.
whichever’s faster, easier
quick, do it, quick!

fortunately
perhaps surviving confers immunity
perhaps having gone through it once
it’s lost some power
lost some effect
you get numb, maybe.
you get bored, maybe.
you think, i’ve seen this before.
I can get out.

fortunately
it’s much less
all consuming now
it’s much less.

fortunately
i feel it coming
but just hovering at the edge
and i battle not to let it in.

i’m never.
going back there.

demons, away!
be gone.

leave me in peace.

Advertisements

Home is where the heart is, but where is my heart?


Home is where the heart is, but where is my heart?
Not here, but far, far away.
Somehow a large part of me seems convinced that you are home.
Have you not given me back my heart yet?

Sometimes that feeling comes back still– that confident, reassured feeling. That I have faith feeling. When I’m sure that we’ll get back together, I know you’ll come back to me. Just because. Because there’s no other possible possibility, because I can’t imagine it being any other way.

It doesn’t matter how desperately i try to tell myself how delusional I’m being, I don’t buy it. It’s not even an antagonistic feeling, like Ha! Call me delusional, I’ll show you! It’s completely calm and detached. It truly does not care that you think it’s delusional, it truly does is not affected by what you say or think, because what you say or think  has no consequence on its truth value. It knows. It has faith.

No wonder religions still exist; nothing you say or do has effect. My faith is unshakable. I believe, because. If even I cannot convince myself, what more other people?

Somehow a significant part of me is (still) convinced that you are home. Are you my home?
Somehow a significant part of me is (still) convinced that you will come back. Will you?

I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
If that part is wrong, I’m not sure what I’d have to do to hammer that truth home to myself. Emotion speaks louder than intellect.

Sending and receiving the message of love


One of the last smses that my ex sent me before the break up had a part which said, “I just want to say that I love you, and Jesus loves you much much much more.”

Remembering that got me thinking about love; how it’s shown and given, and how it’s received and felt.

If Jesus loves me so much, why can’t I feel it? What can it possibly mean for someone like Jesus to love me, someone I can neither see, hear nor touch? Of what value is such a love, that cannot catch a movie with me on a whim, or call me up at night to share the joys and sorrows of the day, nor give me a hug when I’m down?

Just like communication and perception, love is half-half, isn’t it? I mean, when communicating, the words are only half the message. The other half lies in someone’s head: their interpretation and understanding of your words. Similarly, when we see events around us, what happens physically holds only half the meaning of what happened; our perception and understanding of the event gives the other half. Isn’t love like this too, perhaps even more so?

My ex likes reading about things like the five love languages. The concept is pretty straightforward: people express their love in different ways, and there are five main ways in which they do so: quality time, words of affirmation, gift giving/receiving, acts of service and physical touch. Knowing your partner’s love language is helpful because you won’t miss it when they express their love, and you’d have a better idea of how to make them feel loved.

I scored highest for ‘quality time’, which made sense when I thought about it. I enjoy spending time with friends and family, to the extent that it rarely matters to me what the activity is. I could have zero interest in an activity but gladly participate to spend time with friends.

So. A love language. How we communicate our love. How something intangible, abstract and nigh indescribable in our heads (or hearts, if you like) is converted into the real world. And how that is subsequently picked up on and converted back into something intangible in the mind (or heart) of someone else.

It’s easy to see how that can break down.

Miscommunication.
When a child being disciplined doesn’t see the love behind the actions. When you focus on what someone fails to do and miss out on all the things they do for you. When a husband works because he loves his wife, but the wife, left alone, feels unloved. When a bad tempered relative seems on the surface to ignore or pick on you, but has actually made great sacrifices for your sake.

Un-received. One sided love.
When you crush on someone you can’t reach, like a celebrity. When your love is received as annoyance instead. When someone is oblivious to your love.

Unsent.
When you keep your crush a secret. When you don’t act on what’s in your head. No action, no interaction.

‘Sent, but unreceived’ is unrequited love. A delusion, obsession, infatuation… is it still love?
‘Unsent, but received’ is slightly bizarre but not unimaginable: an orphan who convinces himself that his parents love him although he doesn’t know who or where they are, and feels loved when he thinks of them. Or someone who mistakenly interprets ambiguous actions as love. Surely this constitutes delusion, not love?

In my entry Unconditional Love, I wrote, “I love you, even if you don’t want to receive it.” and “My love is mine to give, and you can’t take that away from me.” But maybe that’s incoherent. Maybe that’s not love.

If I love you without sending it, and without you receiving it, is that love at all? If I love you without you caring, knowing or being affected by it in anyway, is there any value in such ‘love’?

After all, love is more than a feeling, right?

Even if it begins with a feeling, even if it’s rooted in emotion… love, ideally, should be more than that, because feelings and emotions are fleeting and transient. Love, to me, is a feeling cemented by commitment. Love is a feeling that drives you to action. Love changes you, and changes the one you give it to.

Love without action; love that never leaves your own head; love that doesn’t affect anyone else; love that exists only in your head. Can any of these be genuine love? Or just an insubstantial feeling. Just delusion.

What do you think?

A person so cruel, a person so heartless


A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
Would I have you in my life?

A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
Words and silences, alike are knives.

A person so cruel, a person so heartless?
Can a person really be?

Maybe just foolish, maybe just callous,
Maybe they can’t see what you see.

Is ignorance an excuse for murder?
Is weakness one for crime?
Is it intentions that matter,
Or actions alone that can drip with slime?

Is it enough that I deem it cruel;
Is it enough that I suffer hurt.
Does it matter what you see?
Does it matter what you think?

A person so cruel, a person so heartless.
That you may be, in my eyes.

A person so heartless, a person so cruel.
Maybe I don’t want you in my life.

Anger is a sword


I’ve never been so angry in my life.
Such intense anger for such an extended period of time.
And I am not, by nature, a person who gets angry often or easily.

I’ve never felt so much hate in my life.
Such intense hatred and for such an extended period of time.
And I am not, by nature, a person who hates anything at all usually, unless it’s in the trivial sense of ‘hating the weather’ or ‘hating being bored or feeling awkward.’ and I’ve certainly never truly hated any person.

It sounds poisonous. It sounds the total opposite of my usual philosophies which always emphasize being positive, giving the benefit of the doubt, seeing from the other’s perspective, live and let live and not sweating the small stuff.

But anger is a sword. Out of control, it can kill indiscriminately. In control, it can win a war, protect loved ones, fight for meaningful causes. It’s only when you are angered by the injustices in the world do you bother to take a stand. Anger can be a powerful tool. And I am so very angry right now.

(I suppose there’s a huge difference between righteous anger and bitter, resentful anger. But people can kill millions of innocents in their ill-directed righteous anger, and petty bitter anger can direct and drive you to battle larger issues. So how much does the source matter?)

Venom


Black Heart ATC

Venomous thoughts and poisonous words;
Whom do they prick? Who do they hurt?

“All of you can go fuck yourselves!”
I’m sick of being shot down.
I hate you, I think to myself,
Black anger swirls round and round.

An armour of self protection
from the crap the world can dish out.
Or a more sinister infection?
Could you say, without a doubt?

Stone walls built around you heart
Shield attacks of knives and arrows.
They keep out, keep in or keep apart.
Suffocate prisoners in the gallows.

In my anger,
black venom flows
tendrils worming
into deeper hold

Thorns protruding
A slow rage burns
Which direction?
Yet to learn.

A hardened heart’s no good for joy,
or happiness, laughter or smiles
Soften your heart, that’s the right ploy
Choose love, it’ll be worthwhile.

Yet how many times can you keep turning
the other cheek before it gets sore?
How many times can you keep enduring
getting stabbed and shot once more?

With desire to hurt, hate lashes out
Being angy makes me feel better
But should I be crying “demons, out!”
Rather than indulge in this behaviour?

Venomous wallowing in poisonous muck
Right now I can’t seem to help but do.
In letting them fester, breed and grow
Do I hurt me more than you?